


All These Demons Haunting Us

by bellabonbon



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: AU, Drug Addiction, Nobody is Dead, Rotating POV, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-11-30 04:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11455926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellabonbon/pseuds/bellabonbon
Summary: “How’s your pain?” The nurse looks at him, and he thinks she probably wants an actual answer to that, but he’s still not in the mood to talk. When it’s obvious he’s not going to answer that question, she tries a different route. “Do you want some more pain medicine?”He’s a little surprised that they’re offering him meds… He wonders if it’s a trick, like if they’re secretly trying to see just how much he really likes drugs or something. It kind of sounds like something his mom would do. But? Fuck it. He nods, a little tentatively, and whatever. On the off-chance thisisn’ta trick, he’s not going to pass up the opportunity.





	1. Connor

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of these characters.

Connor knows where he is the second he wakes up.

His experience with hospitals is limited, but he’s been to the ER a few times with some stupid injuries. And then there was that one time when he was eleven, and he had to have an emergency appendectomy. That was the only time he ever had to stay overnight or whatever. But he knows where he is when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes. His head feels like somebody hit it with a hammer, and his mouth feels dry. His throat is sore, and it feels like it takes a great deal of effort to open his eyes. And he knows exactly why he’s here.

Because he failed.

He’s so tired. He feels like he’s been asleep for days, but it literally takes _so much work_ to even force his eyes open. They feel so heavy. All of him feels _so heavy._ He tries to lift a finger, but it’s too much work. Tries to move his foot, but it’s just not worth it. Finally, though, he gets his eyes to open, and he blinks quickly because why is it so fucking bright in here?

He looks around, expecting to see someone, but the room’s empty. Just him and the beeping noise that he assumes is hooked up to the five hundred different monitors he can feel attached to random parts of his body. 

_Good._ Because he wants to be alone. 

But also, _fuck you_ to his family. Because what the fuck.

He doesn’t move. He just lies there, listening to the beeping noise over his shoulder and staring straight ahead at the white board across from his bed. There are two names written, and he assumes the titles are straightforward enough to trust. Annie is his nurse, and Madison is his CNA. There are a couple of other things scribbled up there that he doesn’t understand. Some times and words that mean nothing to him. Speaking of times… his eyes seek out a clock, and he spots a digital one above the small TV- 7:39 PM.

He watches the numbers tick by. 40. 41.42… He doesn’t see another person until 8:22. One of his nurses walks in (Annie or Madison, he doesn’t fucking know the difference). She looks surprised to see him awake but shoots him a smile and walks over to check some stuff on the monitor behind him. 

“How’re you feeling?”

He doesn’t answer her because what kind of stupid ass question is that? Oh, fucking fantastic. How do you _think?_

It doesn’t matter because Annie or Madison (Annison?) really doesn’t seem like she expects an answer. Instead, she types something into the computer she wheeled in with her and then comes over to his bed. Without any warning, she presses something cold against his forehead and then slides it from one end to the other. She checks it- presumably his temperature- and then types something else in to her computer.

“How’s your pain?” She looks at him, and he thinks she probably wants an actual answer to that, but he’s still not in the mood to talk. When it’s obvious he’s not going to answer that question, she tries a different route. “Do you want some more pain medicine?”

He’s a little surprised that they’re offering him meds… He wonders if it’s a trick, like if they’re secretly trying to see just how much he really likes drugs or something. It kind of sounds like something his mom would do. But? Fuck it. He nods, a little tentatively, and whatever. On the off-chance this _isn’t_ a trick, he’s not going to pass up the opportunity.

Annison just nods back and types something in. “Okay, I’ll let your nurse know. Do you need to move or anything?”

It sounds like a weird fucking question, and he doesn’t really know what she’s asking. His back is sore, though, and her question suddenly makes him want to change positions. He goes to shift, but once again, everything just feels like it’s being tied down by weights. Annison (who must be Madison, since she’s not his nurse) comes over to help. He almost tells her to fuck off, but he realizes he actually _does_ need her assistance to move to a more seated position.

She leaves after dragging him up and changing the position of his bed to a more elevated spot. She tells him his nurse should be in shortly, and he’s so confused. This isn’t what he expected things to be like if he fucked it up and failed. Everything he’s read told him to be prepared for a mandatory psych hold. He wonders why no one’s there to cart him off to some padded unit of the hospital where they take away his shoelaces and chapstick. 

He can’t believe he fucked it up. Like obviously he knew it was a possibility, especially with the pills, but he still can’t believe it. Maybe he should have just bitten the bullet (literally) and gone one of the more foolproof routes, but he just couldn’t. He tries to mentally prepare himself for what’s coming. He assumes that since no one has come to drag him to the psych ward yet that his doctor must think he’s not medically stable enough or something. He still thought there’d be more supervision or something. Like seriously, if he could do something right now if he wanted to. There’s no one around to stop him. But maybe that’s why they’re pumping him with drugs. He can’t fucking move, so maybe that’s the whole reason why. They have to keep him immobile until they can break out the straightjackets. Not literally. He’s done enough research to know that it’s not like in the movies- at least not most of the time. But whatever. The best shot he has now is to literally try to smother himself with a pillow, but he doesn’t think he can get enough strength in his arms to even do _that_.

It doesn’t matter anyway because a different nurse enters the room- this one the actual nurse, he assumes- Annie. She doesn’t look much older than he does, and he wonders if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He supposes it also depends on his definition of good. If he wants to die, inexperience might be to his benefit. 

“I’m Annie,” she introduces herself. “Maddie told me you were having some pain?”

He just looks at her. He doesn’t want to talk to her any more than he wanted to talk to _Maddie._ She doesn’t seem bothered by his lack of verbal response, though. She just walks over to him and picks his hand up. There’s an IV stuck into the top of his hand, taped down to the skin. It stings a little bit when she picks it up, and he forces himself not to visibly wince. Needles kind of freak him out, which he realizes is stupid since he’s been known to take razor blades to the insides of his arms on occasion. 

_Shit._ He glances down at his arms, totally exposed in the hospital gown he’s wearing. The scars he normally hides under long sleeves and layers are out on display for all the world. Annie can obviously see them, but she makes no notice of this or gives any indication that she’s bothered by it. She just checks his IV and smooths down the tape.

“I’m going to give you some morphine. Have you ever had a bad reaction to it or anything?”

_Morphine?_ What the fuck is with this hospital? Whatever, though. He’s not going to complain. He just shakes his head, and Annie disappears behind him to obviously add something to his IV. A few seconds later, his hand starts tingling a little, and he can feel it flushing in.

“It’ll probably take a few minutes. Do you need me to get you anything else?” 

He shakes his head again, super confused because none of this is what he expected. If it wasn’t for the pain and the fact that he feels like his body weighs a thousand pounds, he’d almost call this a win. Oh, plus the whole still being alive thing.

“I had someone call down to the ER. Your parents are still down there with your sister, but I let them know you’re awake. If you need anything before they get here, just push the call button on your bed.”

What? He has no fucking clue what’s going on. He’s so confused that he actually breaks his momentary vow of silence. 

“My sister?” Fuck, his throat is sore.

Annie just nods, though, like she’s not being vague as hell. “The ER is super busy tonight, so I think she’s had to wait awhile. Your parents went down there to sit with her after they released you from recovery.”

Recovery? He’s so lost. He just stares at her, and she looks at him for what feels like several long seconds before she says, “Do you know why you’re here?”

He’s beginning to think the obvious answer of _Because I fucked up an overdose?_ isn’t the right answer. So he just doesn’t say anything at all.

Annie was on her way out the door, but she comes all the way back in and stands closer to his bed. “You and your sister were in a car accident.”

_What?_ Connor feels like his mouth gets even drier, but he still manages to get out a few words. “Is she okay?”

And Annie nods. “Yeah. As far as I know she’s fine. She just has a lot of cuts and stuff, but nothing major. The truck hit you guys on the passenger side, so I think she missed most of the impact.” Connor just blinks at her. “You were pretty lucky, too. Your leg is pretty messed up, and that cut on your head is no joke, but it could have been a lot worse.”

For the first time since waking up, he realizes that his entire right leg is encased in some kind of tight brace or cast. He can’t see it because of the blankets, but he’s suddenly very aware of it. 

“Are you hungry?” Annie seems more concerned about him now that she’s obviously realized he has no fucking clue what is going on. “They’ve already brought dinner, but we have sandwiches, soup, fruit… Or do you want something to drink?”

He just barely shakes his head. He’s pretty sure he’ll throw up anything he tries to eat. 

“Okay. Well, call us if you do. If you need anything, okay?” He doesn’t respond, but she obviously doesn’t care. 

She disappears, and Connor just sits there staring at the same white board. He doesn’t remember anything about a car accident. He doesn’t even remember being in the car. Not since this morning anyway. They went to school… 

Fuck, he doesn’t even remember school…

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but he finally hears somebody at the door. He turns his head, and there’s his mom. He can tell from one glance at her that she’s a fucking wreck. She looks panicked but also relieved when he makes eye contact with her, and she hurries into the room and right over to his bed.

“Hey, honey.” She leans over and kisses his forehead, and he realizes suddenly that the morphine must have really kicked in because he doesn’t even care to shrink away. He does notice that she lingers a little bit, her fingers brushing against the bandage on his head that he’s suddenly super aware of. 

“How bad is it?” His eyes flicker up to meet hers, and she gives him a nervous smile that lets him know the answer easily.

“Not great…” He sees the effort she puts into making the smile appear more genuine. “But you’re okay.”

He doesn’t think he’s all that okay, but his mind is starting to go blissfully blank, and he really doesn’t feel much pain at all. The scratchiness of his throat even seems a little better, and he hears himself talking way more than he would on any normal day.

“What’s wrong with my leg?”

She frowns then, clearly unable to keep up the charade. He doesn’t really care that she’s incapable of sugarcoating it. He wants the truth, and thanks to the drugs currently coursing through his body, he doesn’t even feel all that scared when she tells him.

“A couple of major bones in your leg are fractured, so they had to go in and put some rods and some screws in to try and fix them.” He can’t tell if there’s more she’s not telling him, but he feels so calm that he doesn’t even care that much. “Thankfully, nothing shattered, and your hip is okay. But you’re gonna have to stay off of it for awhile.”

She sounds like she’s directly repeating something she heard from somewhere or someone else, but he doesn’t call her on it. He just lies there while she slides a chair over and sits down beside him, taking one of his hands into both of her own.

“Your dad’s down with Zoe, but I think she’s almost finished. So they should be up here to see you soon.”

His dad’s down with Zoe. In the ER. Zoe’s in the ER because they had a wreck, and he doesn’t have a fucking clue about any of it.

“I don’t remember anything…”

His mom looks kind of worried about that, but she obviously tries to keep it off of her face. “You don’t remember the wreck?”

Connor shakes his head, a little surprised that he can move it so easily. And his mom looks even more worried. He’s sure she’s been a nervous mess this whole time, and he might feel a little bad for her but his mind feels too blissfully smooth to express too much of any one emotion right now. 

“How’s my sister?”

The words sound like they’re coming from somewhere else. He hears how weird they sound. _My sister._ Why did he say that? Like his mom doesn’t know who the fuck Zoe is. He’s pretty sure knows pretty fucking well.

His mom, though, actually lights up at the question. She smiles like he’s just given her the best present she’s ever had or something, and some very fucked up part of his brain knows it’s because this is probably the first time since he was like seven that he’s shown any interest in Zoe’s well-being. 

Thanks, morphine.

“She’s fine. She just had a few cuts that needed stitches, and they’re taking care of that now. She’s been so worried about you.”

“Hmm…” He feels his lips lift slightly, but his eyes are starting to flutter. He’s _so sleepy._ He knows he just woke up, but damn. He’s exhausted. Suddenly and completely. “I’m tired…”

His eyes slip shut, and he feels a hand on his head. Just a gently resting hand that feels like a memory. “Okay, honey. Just go to sleep.” His mom’s voice sounds very far away, but he knows she’s right here.

He’s pretty sure this shit in his IV is the best thing that’s ever happened in his entire life.

Eventually, though, he wakes back up, and judging by the digital clock glowing in the now semi-dark room, it’s 2:14 AM. The brief euphoria of the morphine high is gone, and now he’s just super uncomfortable and really fucking itchy. He looks to his left, and the door is cracked slightly, letting in some light from the clearly still very bright hallway. He can hear the beeping of all the monitors behind him, but he can’t turn around to see them. He feels stiff and sore, and he wonders where the fuck his nurse is because he needs to move or something.

He glances around his bed for the call button Annie mentioned, and when his head swings the other direction, he realizes that he’s not alone. His dad is asleep in one of the padded chairs in the corner. He’s covered in a thin white blanket with his head tipped back against the wall. His laptop is lying closed beside him.

Suddenly the pain and itchiness all over Connor’s body seems to increase.

Almost on cue, though, he watches his dad’s eyes flicker open. It’s like he can sense that he’s being watched or something. To be fair, there’s no way that chair’s comfortable, so it’s probably not like he was having some great restful sleep to begin with. Still, Connor really wishes he wasn’t awake.

It doesn’t matter what he wishes, though, because his dad sits up, running a hand over his face and tilting his head to the side to work out some kind of crick or something. Then he looks at Connor and blinks.

“How’re you feeling?”

Connor doesn’t say anything. Instead, he focuses on trying to slide up the bed to a more comfortable position. He’s shifted in his sleep, and it isn’t helping his pain at all. He forces his hands to grip onto the railing on either side of him, but he doesn’t have the strength to actually get anywhere. He struggles for a second before he hears his dad get up. No. No fucking way.

He shrinks out of his dad’s touch when he tries to assist. Surprisingly, his dad just draws his hands back and crosses his arms. Connor tries again to do it by himself, but he fails miserably, and he really hates his life. Like even more than normal. A second later, he hears his dad say, “You need help.”

Connor wants to be stubborn. He wants to refuse the claim and just stay where he is. But his back feels like it’s about to snap, and the pain in his leg is starting to throb. He needs to move, but he is sure as fuck not asking for help.

This time, though, when his dad leans over to loop one hand under his arm and the other under the opposite elbow, he doesn’t protest. His dad’s a lot stronger than the CNA, and it doesn’t seem to take nearly the same amount of struggle to get him to a more comfortable position. He doesn’t say anything when his dad adjusts the pillows behind his back or when he pulls the blanket up to better accommodate the new position.

“How are you feeling?” His dad repeats his earlier question, but Connor still doesn’t answer. Instead, he finally sees the red call button on the side of his bed and just pushes it. A second later, a voice comes through a tiny speaker.

“Yes?”

Connor wants to continue in his silent protest, but he realizes he has to actually speak if he wants anything. So as abruptly as possible, he just says, “Everything fucking hurts.”

He figures that’s enough to answer his dad’s question, too.

The person on the other end of the speaker seems unimpressed. He just hears a bored, “I’ll tell your nurse,” and then that’s it. Connor just stares straight ahead, doing his very best to ignore the other person in the room. He’s pretty good at it, though- he’s spent a huge portion of his life ignoring his dad, so he’s kind of got a lot of experience.

Even though he’s not looking at his father, he does hear him moving around. He’s heading back to his seat and sitting down, and Connor kind of wants to ask him what the fuck he’s even doing there, but he doesn’t because that would involve speaking. Instead, he just sits in silence until his dad finally speaks again.

“Your mom took Zoe home. I told her to go ahead and sleep there, but she’ll be back in the morning. In case you were wondering.”

He wasn’t. Well, that’s a little bit of a lie. He’s not necessarily concerned with where his mom is- just more with the fact that his dad is here, and she isn’t. His dad doesn’t even like him. His mom might be an annoying bitch, but at least she _likes_ him. Kind of. At least _pretends_ to. She definitely worries about him and hovers way too fucking much, so he is a little surprised that she willingly left him alone in the hospital overnight. Well, not alone obviously. But still. 

Leaving him alone with his dad is even worse.

He half-expects his dad to start in on him about not responding. He hates with Connor ignores him- it’s the best and easiest way to piss him off quickly and effectively. He’s obviously decided to pick his battles tonight, though, because he just lets him get away with it. They just sit there in silence until the cracked door finally opens all the way, and his nurse comes. Or at least Connor assumes it’s his nurse- it’s definitely not Madison or Annie.

“I’m Javi.” The nurse introduces himself, nodding at Connor as he pushes the computer cart into the room and starts typing away after glancing at the monitors behind the bed. “I hear you’re in some pain?”

Connor wants to give some smartass answer about how it should be fucking obvious that he’s in pain, considering the fact that he apparently destroyed his leg and obviously really cracked the shit out of his head. He doesn’t, though. He just nods a little and expects some sexist comment from his dad about male nurses. Well, no. His dad doesn’t usually shit talk people in front of their faces- he normally just does it when they’re out of earshot, so there’s still plenty of time.

“On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, how would you rate your pain?” 

Connor hates this crap. It’s such bullshit, and he knows they won’t believe him no matter what answer he gives. He really fucking hurts all over his body, but he assumes saying ten just sounds dramatic or something and won’t be taken seriously. So he says, “Eight or nine, I guess,” just to be on the safe side.

Javi just nods, types something else in, and then comes over to check the IV and add the meds. Before he gets it done, though, Connor hears his dad interrupt. 

“What are you giving him?”

“His doctor ordered morphine for high level pain in the first forty-eight hours.”

Connor doesn’t need to look over to see his dad’s reaction. He can hear it in the sarcastic little cough/laugh. “Have you got anything less intense?”

Javi seems confused. “Sorry?”

“He kind of has a drug problem. He likes to take prescription medications that don’t belong to him, so I’m not really sure giving him morphine is necessarily the best idea.”

Connor closes his eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ…”

“We asked about possible negative reactions and were told there were none to be concerned about.”

“Well, do most drug addicts let you know about possible negative reactions?” Connor wants to fucking disappear, but his dad just keeps talking. “Also, he’s seventeen, so maybe you should be asking his mother or me about medication options instead of a minor child.”

Connor opens his eyes and feels his hands tensing on their own. He grinds down on his back teeth, and he sees Javi glance behind him at the monitor again with a slightly concerned look. His blood pressure is probably sky rocketing or something, but Javi finally just nods. “Okay, well, I’ll try to get the on call doctor in here to discuss other options.” He sounds a lot calmer than Connor would be, but he probably has a lot of experience in dealing with terrorists like Larry Murphy.

He disappears and leaves them alone, and Connor can’t take it anymore. He snaps his head to the side to look at his dad, wincing with the movement because _shit._

“Do you realize how much fucking pain I’m in?”

His dad is calm and just nods. “I’m sure you are. That doesn’t change the fact that you can’t play loosely with heavy duty pain medications when you have a history of abusing them.”

Connor rolls his eyes. That sounds so goddamn dramatic. It’s not even that serious. 

“I’ll talk to the doctor, and I’m sure he’ll be able to prescribe you something to help with the pain that isn’t as addictive or dangerous.”

“This is stupid.”

But his dad just lifts his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, Connor, but I’m not taking any chances.”

“I’m not a fucking toddler.”

But it’s clear that he’s not going to budge. He actually shrugs his shoulders, and Connor wants to scream. “I wish I could trust you to be responsible enough to handle this kind of thing, but I can’t.”

Connor’s pretty sure he _would_ scream if he had the energy, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just glares at his dad and then looks away, once again cementing himself in silent protest. 

He thinks about the pile of pills he’s been hoarding for weeks. They’re all hidden inside the zipper of his pillow where he’s been steadily adding to the collection in preparation for his way out. They sound really fucking appealing right now.

The way out does, too.


	2. Zoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own these characters.

They’re arguing before they even get in the car.

She shouldn’t have to be responsible for getting him to and from school. She’s the youngest. She shouldn’t be the one with all the responsibilities, but she is. She has to be because Connor can’t be trusted to do anything. He’s reckless at best, destructive at worst. And those are his good days. He spends a ton of time not even having the decency to express any sort of emotion or action. He’s just blank. Empty and dull and doesn’t care about anything. That’s probably why she ends up with the duty of being his personal taxi. He doesn’t even have a license, just showed no interest in it and refused to ever coordinate a time for their parents to take him. He can drive, though, at least somewhat. Sometimes he steals one of their parents’ cars and disappears for an entire night. Her dad called the police on him once, but then he called back like thirty minutes later and canceled the report. Of course. 

It’s not like anybody should ever expect Connor to actually face consequences or anything.

She really wishes she had band practice so she could get out of taking him home, but it’s the first day of school, and even their drill sergeant director won’t give them practice on the first day. So Zoe goes to her car with the intention of waiting exactly two minutes before leaving. It doesn’t matter anyway because he’s leaning against the back of her car waiting when she shows up.

“How did you get out here so fast?” She waits for him to move before she pops the trunk and throws her backpack in. He tosses his own bag in beside hers and shrugs.

“I didn’t go to my last two classes.”

He says it like it’s nothing. Like that’s just a normal thing- skipping two classes on the first day of your last year of high school. She rolls her eyes and says, “I’m sure Mom would love that.”

“Oh, you gonna tattle?” He doesn’t make eye contact with her, but the tone of his voice lets her know that he’s mocking her. 

“Yeah, I’m sure she’d be super impressed with you shoving down a kid with his arm in a cast, too.”

It’s been hours, but she’s still pissed about that. She doesn’t know why Connor can’t just fucking be normal for once or at least _act_ like it. She doesn’t know why he has to go out of his way to be so terrible to people. She’s used to it herself- she’s always gotten the very worst of his temper. But other people aren’t used to it. Nervous kids with broken arms and stuttering problems aren’t fucking used to it. 

Connor, though, doesn’t seem to give a shit. He just walks around to the passenger seat and gets in. She wants to yell at him, but it doesn’t seem like the best idea at the moment. Instead, she just takes a deep breath and then gets into her car. 

They don’t speak to each other for the first couple of minutes, which is fine with her. She’s sure it’s fine with him, too. The more they can just ignore each other, the happier they both generally are. It only lasts a couple of minutes, though, because he pulls a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket, and she immediately flips out. 

“No!” She reaches over to grab at the cigarette, which he’s now got hanging out of his mouth. He moves away from her, so she makes a grab for the lighter in his hand. He moves that out of her way, too, so she slams a closed fist sideways into his chest. “Do not fucking smoke in my car, Connor!”

He shoves her hand away and turns his head to light it. 

“If you light that, I swear to god, I’ll tell Mom!”

He rolls his eyes. “Why do you think I fucking care? Tell her whatever the hell you want to tell her.”

She sees the truck too late.

It runs a stop sign and starts flying straight for them. There’s nothing she can do when she sees it coming from her right, so she just screams. She thinks she sees Connor look to see what’s wrong, but a second later, she doesn’t see anything at all.

She feels the impact when metal slams into metal. It’s the loudest noise she’s ever heard. It sounds like an explosion, and she thinks she’s screaming while the car spins in circles as it’s slammed across the intersection. They finally smash into the curb, and Zoe immediately feels herself slammed forward, but the airbag explodes right in her face just as a shard of glass comes flying from the right and slices against her cheek. She screams in pain, and the fact that she can hear her own voice inside of her head is the only reason she knows she’s not dead. 

Time seems to halt for a second after the car stops spinning. There’s a ringing in her ears, and when she sits up, tears are streaking down her cheeks and mixing with something warm and thick, which she assumes is blood. She fumbles for her keys, jerking them from the ignition and letting them fall somewhere by her feet while she blinks and tries to breathe. 

It occurs to her that she was the only one screaming and is now the only one crying. She’s scared to turn her head, but she does anyway.

The airbags are deflating, and she sees her brother half in his seat and half shoved into the middle area. His door is dented in, shoving him to the middle and leaving him at a very strange angle. He’s slumped over, and his eyes are closed. All she can see is blood. Blood all over his face and dripping all over him and the car. 

“C-C-Connor?” Her voice is shaking and too breathy, and she’s surprised she can even make any sound. She’s still sobbing, and her chest feels like it’s closing in. Connor gives no indication that he’s even heard her, so she tries again- this time more loudly. _”Connor!”_

Nothing.

She starts crying even harder, and she raises a shaking hand to shove at his shoulder. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react. Just nothing. “Connor!” She yells it this time, her voice breaking off in sobs. “Wake up!” 

But he doesn’t.

Probably no more than a minute passes before she hears voices behind her. Somebody is pulling her door open, and there is a small group of people outside her car. She turns her head and looks at them through tears. One woman steps forward and talks to her. 

“I’m going to unbuckle you, okay, honey?” 

Zoe nods because she doesn’t know what else to do. The woman reaches over her and carefully undoes her seatbelt. 

“Are you okay?” She’s leaned in close and speaking softly and calmly. “Can you walk?” Zoe nods again, uncertain but assuming she can. The woman just nods and leans back, wrapping both hands around Zoe’s elbows while she helps her out of the car. 

She’s shaking all over, and her legs feel very unsteady, but two more people rush over to help her stand up and walk over to a concrete wall a few feet away. She’s almost certain that she’s having a heart attack or something. Her chest is so tight, and her lungs are closing up. She can’t stop crying.

“We’ve already called 911. Okay, honey?” The same woman is talking to her, gently brushing her shoulder as she stays close by after they’ve gotten Zoe seated on the wall. “So an ambulance is going to come and help you.”

“My, my-my brother…” She can’t form any coherent words, and she looks over to the car where more people are crowding, some leaning into the car.

But the woman just nods and rubs her shoulder again. “The ambulance will help him, too. Do you want to call your parents?”

Zoe nods but then realizes her phone is somewhere in her car. “I-I don’t… My phone… I don’t…”

“It’s fine. You can use mine. Or do you want me to call them for you?”

She nods again, thinking about how much worse things will be if she calls her parents mid-meltdown. She manages to choke out her dad’s name and number and just sits there crying while she listens to this stranger let him know that both of his kids have been in a car accident and that maybe somebody should come down here because an ambulance is on its way. Oh, and by the way, his daughter is basically hysterical and his son won’t wake up. 

She hears the sirens, sees an ambulance pull up and a fire truck right behind it. She notices the other vehicle for the first time- a truck that’s turned completely backward from the direction it should be facing, the entire front end smashed in and destroyed. She sees paramedics rush to her car and crawl in through the driver’s side before she hears a saw cutting through the passenger’s door. Everything’s a blur. A different paramedic comes up to talk to her, but she doesn’t think she answers anything coherently. She’s too in shock watching her brother be pulled out of the car and slid onto a stretcher. She can’t see much else through all the blood, but he’s still not moving. 

This is a nightmare, and she just wants to wake up.

She does just that, too, her eyes shooting open in horror. Her pillow is soaked in sweat, and for a brief two seconds, she almost believes that it was all just a dream. It’s not, though. Everything from that dream was true, and she kind of feels ill, like she might throw up or something. Mostly, though, she just really has to pee.

Her legs feel too weak to hold her weight, and she really can’t stand up too steadily. She manages to stumble her way to the bathroom, though, trying desperately to ignore the pain shooting from her head to her shoulder.

After she finishes, she goes to the sink to wash her hands and glances up at the mirror. She immediately cringes because she looks even worse than she did last night. Last night, the worst part of it was the crooked cut down almost the entire length of her right cheek. The stitches make her look like some kind of Frankenstein or something, but now the giant bruise is fully formed and covering half her face. It’s dark purple with yellow streaks through it, and she looks fucking awful. There are a few other random stitches under and behind her ear from cuts that probably resulted from smaller bits of broken glass. 

Still. She looks better than Connor.

He was asleep when she finally saw him last night. They kept her waiting in the ER for hours because she was considered non-emergency. They just kept giving her towels to hold on her cheek, promising that she wasn’t going to bleed out. The paramedics checked her over and determined that she was okay enough to wait, so she did. She waited and waited, hearing just the backend of conversations between her parents about Connor. She knew he was having surgery. She knew he woke up briefly in the ambulance and was apparently able to tell them his name and birthday. She knew his leg was messed up pretty badly. And that’s about all she knew.

Her dad stayed with her in the ER, and her mom waited in the surgical wing for Connor. Zoe kept hearing quick one-sided phone conversations and kept watching her dad exchange texts. She was still too frazzled and shaken to really ask too many questions, but she pieced together some of what was happening. Enough to stay semi up to date while her brother was taken to emergency surgery.

Eventually, though, her mom showed up in the ER right after a doctor finally came in to check Zoe out. She gave them updates- Connor was out of surgery. They woke him up in recovery, but he fell back to sleep pretty quickly. He was in his own room now. Everything went well. Nothing in his leg was shattered (which apparently was good news), but the multiple fractures meant he was going to take awhile to heal. The gash in his head required several stitches, and they were watching his vitals because of all the blood loss. Two broken ribs and some pretty bad burns on his neck and shoulder. 

_“It could have been worse.”_

Her mom sounded like she was trying so hard to be positive and not break down. So Zoe just broke down instead. She cried for forty minutes between the time that the doctor examined her and the time that somebody finally came in to do her stitches. She cried the whole time they stitched her up. Eventually, one of the nurses came in and asked if she wanted some nerve medication, and that was the only thing that even remotely calmed her down.

By the time she finally saw Connor, he was asleep (again). She was glad, too, because there’s no way she would have been able to hide her expression when she saw him. As bad as she looked, he was a million times worse. His bandage covered almost the entire length of his forehead. His whole face was bruised and swollen, both of his eyes were black. He looked like he’d been hit by a truck- _literally._

Zoe looks in the mirror at her own reflection and wonders if he, too, looks even worse today.

She hears footsteps on the stairs, and then her mom is standing in the bathroom doorway. She looks exhausted, but she gives Zoe a small smile anyway. “I thought I heard you get up.”

Zoe nods, finally washing her hands. “Yeah, I had to pee.”

“How’re you feeling?”

Zoe just frowns in response, letting her feelings be known. She’s sore and still feels really fucking shaken and nervous. Her mom, thankfully, seems to read her mind because she just nods.

“A shower might help you feel better, and then I’ll make you some breakfast.”

Zoe nods, careful not to move too much. She looks in the mirror again at all the dried and crusted blood that’s in her hair and clinging to her scalp. “Will all this just wash out?”

“It should. You think you can manage it yourself?”

“Manage what?”

“Washing your hair?”

Oh. Zoe didn’t realize that she might not be able to do normal freaking things, but she’s very aware of the pain in her shoulder. Thinking about shampooing makes it hurt even more. 

“I can try?” She doesn’t want to give in to helplessness _that_ easily. 

Her mom just smiles again, but it doesn’t go anywhere near her eyes. “Well, if you need help, just let me know. I can do your hair in the sink or something if you’re not able to reach it. Or we can go to the salon. Just don’t hurt yourself even more.”

Zoe’s not used to her mom coddling her this much. She rarely has time left over for Zoe after she’s finished dealing with whatever Connor drama is happening on any given day. Normally, Zoe doesn’t care because she’s used to it. But she has to admit, this is kind of nice…

She lets her mom help her with her sweatshirt, though, because the thought of pulling it over her head by herself makes her wince. Her mom is super careful to avoid Zoe’s stitches and also to move pretty slowly to accommodate any soreness (and there’s a _ton_ ). 

Once she gets it off, though, her mom’s face visibly changes, and she frowns. “Oh, god, honey…”

Zoe’s confused at first, but then she looks in the mirror, following her mom’s line of sight. There’s a huge bruise covering most of her left shoulder and disappearing under her sports bra. She didn’t notice that last night, but it explains the pain.

“Your seatbelt must have locked.” Zoe stares at her reflection in the mirror while her mom gingerly touches the bruise. “Oh, honey.”

Zoe’s biting back tears, which is dumb because what’s one more bruise that nobody can even see? But it’s just one more thing to add to the already too long list of things that are fucked up, and she feels ready to break.

“Do you need one of your pain pills?” 

Her mom must think she looks pretty terrible, but Zoe can see in her reflection that she does, in fact, look horrible. She nods, hoping that it doesn’t just make her so drowsy that she can’t function. Not that she has a lot to do or whatever, since she’s definitely not going to school. But she doesn’t want to be dead to the world, either. 

Her mom disappears for a couple of minutes and comes back with a single pill and a glass of water. Zoe takes them and swallows the pill down before finishing the water. She realizes how stupid it is because she’s sixteen, not six. People her age don’t still get their medicine handed out to them in single doses, but most people her age don’t have drug addict brothers who make it impossible to even keep cold medicine out in the open. Every medication in their house is kept under lock and key, no exceptions. It’s totally ridiculous and also totally stupid because locking down their Nyquil isn’t going to deter Connor from going behind the gym at school and buying whatever the fuck he wants off that one weird dealer kid. 

“Why don’t you just try a bath for now, and then I’ll call Jody and see if she can get your hair.”

Zoe wants to refuse because she doesn’t like asking for help. She knows she needs to, though, so she just nods and watches while her mom fills up the tub for her. “I’ll go make you something to eat, but yell if you need anything, okay?” Zoe nods, knowing she has no other choice.

The bath does make her feel a little better, and she even manages to choke down the eggs her mom puts in front of her. She’s not hungry, but she knows mixing pain meds and an empty stomach isn’t a smart move unless she wants to be sick. She eats her eggs and nibbles at her toast while her mom gives her milk, water, _and_ coffee like she’s afraid of dehydration or something. 

After they finish breakfast, she lets her mom help her get dressed in something easy, and they head to the salon to get her hair washed. Zoe closes her eyes when they pull onto the main road. Even though she’s not driving, she still feels really jumpy and nervous. She hopes her mom doesn’t notice because that would just be one more thing for her to worry about. 

Everyone freaks out over her at the salon, and all the attention makes her a little uncomfortable. Luckily, though, enough people start trickling in that the stylists start getting busy and have to leave her alone. Jody has done both Zoe and her mom’s hair for years, and she’s super careful when Zoe’s over the sink. She’s gentle and avoids the stitches. Sitting in the chair with her leaned back like that doesn’t do Zoe’s neck any favors, but feeling the dried blood and random tiny shards of glass wash away makes it worth it.

“You want me to do anything?” Jody asks, smiling as she helps Zoe sit up and starts towel drying her hair. “I can do some streaks or something if you’re in the mood.”

Normally, Zoe would love something new, but right now, she can’t fathom sitting in the salon chair for that long or going back over the sink, so she just shakes her head. “Just dried, I think.”

When she’s all finished, she looks a lot better but still terrible when you consider everything besides her hair. She’ll take it, though, because at least she’s clean. That’s a win, right? If she doesn’t go anywhere or do much, she might be able to let her hair go a few days before she has to wash it again. Maybe she’ll feel a little better by that time.

Or at least not as terrible.

They head straight to the hospital after they leave the salon, not that Zoe’s surprised. She’s more surprised by the fact that her mom’s let it get to almost 11 o’clock without running straight to Connor. She was super surprised when she actually agreed to go home and sleep last night, but she figured that her mom would be back at the hospital at the crack of dawn. The fact that she’s spent the whole morning taking care of Zoe surprises her a little bit. She appreciates it, though. It’s different, but it’s nice.

They park and make their way over the hospital and up the elevator. Connor’s room is on the third floor, and Zoe’s glad her mom knows where they’re going because she sure the hell doesn’t. 

Connor’s awake when they get there, staring sullenly up at the TV in front of him. It’s some cooking show that Zoe’s a hundred percent sure he doesn’t care about, considering the only thing he’s ever baked in his entire life was a pan of weed brownies one weekend when their parents went to visit their aunt in New York. He let Zoe eat two before he finally told her the truth, and she spent the next seven hours crying on the bathroom floor while he laughed at her and tried to get her to calm down. He was actually semi-nice to her even though he was clearly making fun of her.

She was going to tell on him, but she never did. She’s not sure why.

He doesn’t acknowledge them when they walk into the room, but Zoe watches her mom go over and fawn over him anyway. He barely even reacts, and Zoe rolls her eyes and looks away. She’s not sure why she thought almost dying might make him less of an asshole.

She gets her own fawning from her dad who looks tired and slightly irritated, but still comes over to hug her anyway. He brushes some (newly clean) hair away from her face and asks how she’s feeling. She just lifts a shoulder in return but lets herself melt into his hug, resting her uninjured cheek on his chest and feeling a little better while he rubs her back.

A minute later, though, she’s left alone with Connor while their parents go talk about something privately in the hallway. He still doesn’t acknowledge her until she actually physically stands directly over his bed and talks to him. 

“Why are you watching that?” She doesn’t really expect him to respond and definitely doesn’t care about his answer. But she just needs something to say, and that sounds as good as anything else does.

He moves his eyes from the TV and over to her for the first time. He seems really unimpressed with her interrupting his Food Network quality time, and she expects him to either ignore her or cuss her out. 

His eyes just go slightly wider, though, and he says, “You look like shit.”

She glares at him out of habit. “Have you seen yourself?”

She assumes it’s a rhetorical question, but he actually shakes his head. 

“How the hell have you not seen yourself?”

“Mirrors aren’t exactly high on my list of priorities.”

“You haven’t been up to pee or anything?” She finds that hard to believe, but he just glances down at the left side of his bed. She follows his eyes and sees a bag of dark yellow liquid hanging off the edge of his bed. _”Gross!”_

He just rolls his eyes.

Zoe makes another face at the piss bag and then reaches into her purse and pulls out her compact. She holds it out to him, but he doesn’t take it. “Look at yourself.” She holds it out a second time, reiterating herself, but he just looks at her.

“I don’t give a shit what it looks like,” and she’s suddenly very aware of the return of his normal hateful tone. “I already know what it fucking feels like.”

“Well, what did the doctor say?” She leans sideways against the side of his bed, bumping her hip against the mattress by the massive immobilizer currently encasing his entire right leg. 

Connor just shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know I saw her for like three minutes, and then Dad started harassing her about what they’re giving me. Because apparently he thinks I’m just bullshitting the pain or something and don’t really need anything to help.”

Zoe’s ninety-eight percent sure that’s not the whole story. She’s willing to bet that her dad _has_ caused at least one scene (he’s good for that), but she’s pretty sure it’s not because he thinks Connor is lying about his pain. She’s pretty sure the giant cast, swollen face, and still blood-soaked bandage on his face make his pain fairly obvious. But that doesn’t change the fact that Connor and pain medication of any sort are not exactly a match made in heaven- or maybe they are, and that’s the problem.

“So I’m sure that’s what they’re out there fucking talking about.” Connor cuts his eyes toward the closed door, and Zoe assumes he’s probably correct.

“Do you know when you get to come home?” She’s unconsciously playing tugging at a loose thread on his sheet, but he doesn’t tell her to stop.

“What part of _saw the doctor for three minutes_ was hard to understand? No, I don’t fucking know when I get to go home. Nobody knows anything around here. Everyone’s so fucking stupid.”

“You’re in a great mood…” He glares at her again, and she looks up and meets his eyes. “I’ll try to keep Dad home with me tonight.” 

She doesn’t need to explain. It’s her version of a peace offering, even though they’re not technically in a fight or whatever. She’s trying to be nice, trying to help him because she knows that having their dad around is probably just making everything worse for him. To say her dad and brother don’t get along well is an understatement. She thought it was a bad idea for her dad to stay in the first place, but she was too tired and out of it last night to argue. 

Connor looks like a kid, like his lip is actually jutted out a little bit in irritation. He’s got his arms crossed, and he looks over her head and back at the TV. She knows that’s it. He’s going to talk to her anymore, and she’s not surprised. She’s just shocked she got anything out of him at all. Even though she knows he’s done talking, she still adds one last request to her statement. 

“Can you please just like not be a dick to Mom, though? She’s a fucking mess over all this, and you know she just wants to help.”

Connor gives no indication that he even hears her, but she knows he does. Whether he listens or not, that’s another question. He’s usually terrible to their mom, despite the fact that she literally lets him get away with everything, takes up for him, defends him against their dad and against Zoe and probably against the whole world if it came to it. Zoe normally can’t stand the way her mom coddles him, but she never stops, despite the fact that Connor is a Grade A asshole to her and just usually cusses her out or pushes her away. Zoe herself couldn’t get away with half the shit Connor does and says, but she’d also never try. Seeing him get by with everything he does… it bugs the shit out of her and just adds to her reasons to despise him. She rarely feels sorry for her mom, no matter what Connor does, because she basically deserves whatever he throws at her. You know, since she refuses to hold him accountable for pretty much _anything._

Right now, though, she’s just desperate for Connor to be at least somewhat cordial because their mom doesn’t deserve _this._

“Mom said you don’t remember anything about the wreck.” He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t react at all. Just keeps his eyes fixed on the TV. But she goes on anyway. “You’re lucky. It was scary. And my car’s totally fucked.”

She doesn’t elaborate. Maybe they’ll talk about it one day. If they do, she’ll probably leave out the part where she had a fucking emotional breakdown thinking he was dead. But maybe she’ll tell him the rest. One day. Maybe he’ll ask her about it. Maybe.

Probably not.


	3. Connor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own these characters.

Connor likes pain.

Well, that sounds stupid. He doesn’t _like_ it, but he enjoys feeling something. He’s feels so fucking empty sometimes that any kind of feeling is welcome. That’s why he cuts sometimes. Not a lot. Not even regularly. Just occasionally, like if he’s really, really bored or really, really desperate to feel something. He used to do it a lot more than he does now. Back when he used to have some semblance of hope that maybe he wasn’t totally empty and dead inside. Now he’s pretty much just accepted it, so he’s kind of moved on from desperately wanting to feel something to just wanting it all to be over with. 

He’s already fucking dead inside, might as well just finish the job.

Unfortunately, he can’t do anything like that because he’s under constant supervision these days. He’s also pretty much bedridden and literally can’t even get out of bed without a ton of fucking help. So he’s stuck. At least for now. Just like he’s stuck in this fucking hospital room. And it sucks. Like a fucking ton.

Because here’s the thing. Maybe he’s okay with pain once in awhile. But that’s pain that he causes for himself. _This_ pain? Is fucking terrible. It’s the worst he’s ever felt in his entire life, and nothing he does makes it any better. His whole body feels like it’s simultaneously being crushed and being set on fire. It keeps getting worse instead of better, which is pretty typical according to all of the doctors who peek in on him briefly. They’re totally fucking unhelpful, so he’s not really surprised that they don’t seem to have any idea about when he might feel better or when he might get to go home. They all just give some bullshit response like, _”We’ll get you out as soon as possible,”_ but that doesn’t mean anything. 

It’s all just a lot. He can’t take this much longer, and he knows he’s close to snapping. There are too many people hovering around him all the time, he can’t fucking move, everything on his entire body just _hurts…_ He just wants out of here. He’s pretty sure that even being at his house is preferable to this because at least he can smoke at home. Plus, there are all the pills that he’s got hidden. He’d give just about anything to have them now, especially since he’s getting basically zero pain relief help from anyone at this damn hospital.

That’s his dad’s fault, of course. He’s convinced the entire staff that Connor’s some kind of fucking drug addict or something. Which. Whatever, he’s not. Like maybe he likes getting high, but he’s not some goddamn junkie or something. He’s not shooting up heroin in a back alley dumpster or like sucking dick in a 7-11 bathroom for meth or anything. So basically his dad’s just making a big deal out of something that’s not that big of a deal and, as an added bonus, making Connor even more miserable than he would be anyway.

And it doesn’t matter that he’s not a junkie and doesn’t shoot up or suck dick for meth… because everyone in the hospital obviously thinks those are exactly the kinds of things that he does. The best thing he can get for pain is basically a strong dose of Tylenol, which fuck that. He might as well not even take anything.

He ends up in tears on the third night because he just can’t fucking take it anymore. He’s done his best to keep a pretty level head and not freak the hell out or anything because the last thing he needs is to actually end up in a psych hold or something crazy like that. He has enough sense to realize that freaking out and acting like a psychopath is not going to help him with the whole getting out of the hospital thing, so he’s just adopted a pretty easy routine of keeping his mouth fucking shut. He’s used to that- he does it a lot.

It’s hard, though, and eventually he just can’t take it. He wakes up for what feels like the fiftieth time in two hours and just wants to scream. His fingers grip the railing of his bed so tightly that even they start to ache. He tries to focus on that, even tries some of that fucked up centralized breathing bullshit they taught in rehab last summer. Nothing works. He can’t shift to a new position, and any way he moves just makes everything feel even worse. 

And so then he’s just fucking _crying_ because he just can’t do it anymore. He just can’t.

He doesn’t make a scene or anything, just kind of gives up and feels tears on his face before he can stop them. It’s enough to wake his mom up, though. Of fucking course. He rubs his eyes as quickly as possible when he sees her sit up from the armchair in the corner. He knows it’s stupid because she obviously knows what’s going on. He expects her to jump up and rush over and start babying him because that’s what she does.

Except she doesn’t do any of that.

Instead, she just takes an extra minute to stretch and keeps her eyes closed as she rolls her neck. He realizes that she’s trying to pretend like she didn’t just catch him crying. He doesn’t know why, but he appreciates it. On some level anyway. They both know that she knows he’s wiping away tears, but it leaves him with some small shred of dignity. She gives him a few seconds to hide his tears, and even though he knows his eyes are still wet and his face is still red, she doesn’t bring it up at all when she finally acknowledges him.

“Can’t sleep?” She asks it like it’s not fucking obvious that he can’t sleep. Or like he’s been able to sleep at all over the past few days- he hasn’t. He gets an hour here or thirty minutes there, but that’s it. Sleeping here is impossible, especially when his whole body feels like it’s shutting down on him and speeding up at the same time. 

But he just shakes his head.

“You want anything?” 

She means does he want some candy or a soda or some other crap that she’d never willingly offer him under normal circumstances. Or she means does he want a book or his iPad. Or does he want her to help fix his pillows or something. 

What he says is, “Yeah, I want some drugs.”

“Connor.” She sounds disappointed or maybe like she doesn’t want to have this conversation, but fuck that.

“I’m serious!” He snaps a little too harshly, but so what? “This fucking _hurts!”_

“I know, baby, but-“

“But nothing!” He feels his eyes burning again. “I don’t know why the fuck nobody believes me!”

“I believe you, Connor, but you…” She’s frowning and looking like she’s on the verge of her own set of tears. She stands up and walks over to the bed, lowering her voice a little because _of course_ she doesn’t want everyone knowing their business. “Honey, you have a real problem.”

He rolls his eyes and once again squeezes the bed rails as tightly as he can. “This is bullshit!”

“I wish I could help you. I really do… I just don’t want to make things worse for you. I wish you didn’t feel like this. I hate it _so_ much.”

“No, you don’t.” And he doesn’t care how hateful he sounds. He doesn’t fucking care at all. “You would do something about it if you hated it.”

“Connor, I _can’t_ -“

“Bullshit!” He cuts her off mid-sentence. “You can do something! You can go tell them to give me something! You’re supposed to take care of me!”

“Calm down.” She’s got her voice lowered again, but he doesn’t give a shit. 

“Just tell them to give me something!” He hears his voice break as it grows even louder. He’s tearing up within a second, and his eyes are stinging and blurry. He tries to stop it because he knows it’s pathetic, but he just can’t. “Please! Mom, _please!”_

He can tell she’s about to start crying herself. He isn’t even actually trying to manipulate her or anything. He’s just really fucking desperate, and if he has to cry to his mommy, he will. He can’t take it anymore. And then he really _is_ crying, and _fuck._ He rubs at his eyes again, trying to ignore the pain shooting through his chest as he moves his arms. 

“Mom…” He hears his voice break, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Just please…”

He’s going to throw up. He knows he is. He doesn’t know if it’s the pain or what it is, but he’s going to puke. He’s also so fucking _hot._ This is the worst he’s ever felt in his life, and he just wants it to be over. He’s willing to do anything or say anything. Tears are streaking down his face, and he knows he’s about to have some kind of fucking panic attack. He tries to calm himself down, but it’s just useless. 

“Honey,” he hears his mom speaking gently and calmly. That’s the voice she always uses with him- almost like she’s scared that he’ll freak out or something if she uses anything firmer. “You need to calm down.”

Okay, sure. That just makes it _super_ easy. He’ll just calm right down. Of fucking course. 

He hears himself making promises before his brain can tell him any better. “I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll go back to rehab! I’ll stay there this time, whatever you want! Just _please_ help me right now! Mom, I can’t take this anymore!”

And then she’s crying, too, and he doesn’t know whether to feel guilty or pissed off or what. All he knows is that he’s not going to survive one more hour like this, he’s totally fucking certain of that. He doesn’t know how it got so bad so fast, but he feels like something inside of him has snapped or something. And whatever he was doing before to at least cope just isn’t going to work anymore. And all he wants is somebody to give him some fucking drugs or…

“I just wish I fucking _died…”_

_”Connor!”_ And now she looks devastated, and he squeezes his eyes closed because he doesn’t want to see her face like that. And he knows he shouldn’t have said that. He’s not supposed to say that. Saying that makes him sound crazy, and even though he knows without a doubt that he _is,_ in fact, fucking crazy, his mom doesn’t like to hear that. Or see it. “Don’t say things like that!”

He doesn’t argue with her, even though he’s never been more honest about anything in his entire life. He wants to die probably at least 85% of the time, so it’s really fucking unfair that from everything he’s heard, he could have easily died three days ago if things were just slightly different. Like if the pickup hit them from like four inches to the left, the airbags might not have deployed. Or if his head injury was left untreated for like five more minutes, he might have lost too much blood. Or if Zoe had tried to turn the car away from the impact instead of just staying stationary, the truck would have hit them from the back corner and probably pushed his seat forward and through the windshield. These are the things that people keep talking about when they think he’s asleep or not paying attention, but he hears them. 

They all say how _lucky_ he is. That’s it’s a _miracle_ things aren’t worse than they are. But he just thinks it’s really fucking unfair that he could have just _died_ like he usually wants to anyway, and all he got instead was the worst fucking pain of his life and a leg that from what he hears- again, from eavesdropping- may not ever heal correctly and be fully functional. 

“Is everything okay in here?” 

He hears his nurse, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He can tell his mom is still crying, but she takes in a shaky breath and says, “Is there a doctor I can talk to?”

“Dr. Milton doesn’t come in until six, but I can check to see if the on call can see you. What’s wrong?”

Connor still doesn’t open his eyes. He can just imagine what he looks like, tears streaking down his face as he grits his teeth and tries not to openly sob. He hears his mom struggle with her words a little bit, but she says, “He needs something stronger for his pain. He… He can’t keep going like this.”

“I thought your husband said-“

“I don’t care what he said.” Connor can tell his mom is irritated and on edge, and he does feel a little bad, but he also just wants her to get him some fucking drugs. “Can I please speak with a doctor?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll check. It may take awhile to get the on call up here, though.”

“That’s fine. Thank you.”

Connor hears the nurse leave and then finally opens his eyes. His mom has tears on her face, but she looks more angry than sad. Or maybe just annoyed. He can’t tell. 

“Thank you…” He barely mumbles it, not used to saying those words in any situation- at least not facetiously. 

She stares at him for a second, and then nods. “I’ll be back.” Her voice sounds short and clipped, and he doesn’t say anything when she goes over to her purse to get her wallet and phone. She leaves him alone, wiping her eyes as she exits the room.

And Connor just squeezes his eyes shut again because he can’t fucking do _anything._ Now his mom’s pissed at him or something, and he doesn’t even know why he cares because he normally does not give the slightest of shits about his parents being pissed at him. He actively _tries_ to make them pissed at him actually. So he’s not sure why he feels guilty or bad that his mom’s obviously irritated with him. 

Maybe ten minutes later, he hears somebody come back. He opens his eyes, thinking it’s his mom, but it’s not. It’s his nurse, pushing in the computer cart and scrolling through something as he walks. He’d probably say Javi is his favorite nurse, if he had to pick one. He likes the fact that he’s not a coddler like some of the women who work during the day are. They like the fuss over him and talk to him like a kid, even though a lot of them look like they’re barely twenty. Javi’s not too old, either, but he acts a lot different than the others do. He doesn’t talk to him like he’s a child or hover over him asking if everything’s alright. He normally just pops in, checks on what’s going on, and pops back out. Of course, he’s usually there overnight when people are supposed to be sleeping. But whatever.

“Where’d your mom go?” He glances over at Connor and then back to whatever he’s scrolling through on the computer. He doesn’t mention anything about the fact that Connor’s obviously been crying and probably still has a mess of tears all over his face or like snot running out of his nose.

Connor just lifts a shoulder, not caring enough to actually speak. Javi doesn’t call him on it, just types something into the computer and then walks over to start checking his IV. “I talked to the doctor, and he’s going to come talk to your mom. But I’m going to give you something to calm down because your vitals are basically insane…” Javi glances up at the monitor and shakes his head. 

Connor once again feels his hand start to tingle after Javi walks behind him to add something to the IV. He hisses when it stings a little bit, but honestly, compared to the way the rest of his body feels, the sting is nothing.

“It’s not going to help with the pain much, but you might get a little relief.” Javi comes back around and goes back to the computer. “I also need to ask you some questions, and I know you probably don’t want to answer them, but it’s important. So just like do me a favor and cooperate?”

Connor looks over at him, and Javi’s just staring at him with a raised eyebrow. First instinct is to tell him to fuck off, but he really doesn’t even know why. What does it fucking matter if he just acts like a normal human and answers a nurse’s questions?

“I need to know about your drug usage.”

“Fuck off.” _There_ it is. 

Javi seems totally unaffected. “Look, man. I’m not judging you or anything, but if you want something stronger, the doctor needs to know what’s safe for you. So just be honest, and we’ll all be happier, okay?”

Connor glares at him. He has no interest in having some drug talk or confessing all his dirty little not-so-secrets. But it doesn’t seem like Javi’s going to let him off the hook.

“What kind of drugs do you use?”

“Pot.” Connor bites out the answer because whatever. He doesn’t think refusing to answer is going to get him anywhere.

Javi types something and then looks over. “That’s it?” His voice makes it clear that he doesn’t believe that for a second.

“And pills, I guess.” Connor rolls his eyes and then looks away, mumbling the answer. He thinks about his dad outing him and making him sound like some kind of junkie, and he feels irrationally angry.

“What kind of pills?”

“Whatever I can get.” Connor shrugs because WTF. He’ll literally take anything anybody gives him. He doesn’t fucking care.

“Anything you take more often than the rest?”

This is the weirdest fucking conversation, and Connor wants to tell him to fuck off again. Instead, he hears himself muttering, “Oxy. I guess.”

Javi just nods, types something, and then says, “How often would you say you use?”

“What?”

“How often do you use drugs?”

Connor has no fucking interest in this conversation. He feels himself shutting down because he doesn’t want to talk about this shit, and whatever. This dude should feel lucky that he got anything out of him at all. He’s sure as fuck not going into detail about his usage habits.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me about this.” It’s like Javi can read his mind or something- scary. “But your mom’s not here, and I’m not in the business of snitching. So just be honest with me because this is important.”

Connor looks at him and thinks, not for the first time, that he’s relatively attractive. At least for somebody in hospital scrubs that have probably been puked or pissed on. His skin is nice- dark and clear, and his hair is sort of long- not as long as Connor’s, but long enough to pull back in a bun. None of that’s important, though, because who gives a shit how attractive this guy is? It’s not like that has anything to do with anything, and Connor just stares at him because he still doesn’t feel like answering the question. 

But it also doesn’t seem like Javi’s in the mood for any bullshit. He very directly asks, “Do you use drugs every day?”

And Connor feels his head nod. He doesn’t know why he’s answering, but he also doesn’t know why he wouldn’t. He believes Javi when he says he’s not in the business of snitching, and even if he _did_ tell, it’s not like Connor’s parents don’t basically already know everything. They’ve caught him with drugs too many times to count. They’ve forced him to rehab. They already know all about it, so what does it even matter?

“I smoke every day,” he mutters. “Usually.” And it’s not a lie. He’s pretty sure that pot is basically the only thing that keeps him from attempting suicide on a daily basis, but he doesn’t add that part.

“What about pills? Do you do that every day, too?”

But Connor just shakes his head. “Too expensive.” Javi looks at him with raised eyebrows, and now it’s like Connor’s reading _his_ mind. It pisses him off a little, too, but he answers the unasked question anyway. “My parents cut me off a long time ago.”

He knows what people think about him. He knows they assume he’s some spoiled rich kid, and maybe he is to an extent. But it’s not like his parents just throw unlimited amounts of money at him and let him run wild doing whatever the fuck he wants. They don’t throw _any_ money at him, haven’t in a couple of years actually. He still manages to get shit, but it’s not without effort. He normally just steals from his mom or his sister (his mom is especially good at leaving her purse unattended, even though she should definitely know better by now). Sometimes he sells shit- some of his own stuff, some of his family’s stuff. That takes way more effort, but it’s also way less likely to be noticed than straight up stealing cash. 

Regardless, nice to know that Javi obviously thinks he’s just some run-of-the-mill cliché rich kid addict. Fucking nice.

“Well, part of your pain could be withdrawal related.” Javi doesn’t necessarily sound judgmental, just kind of like he’s stating a fact. It still pisses Connor off. 

“I’m not a fucking drug addict.”

He’s not going through _withdrawals._ You don’t get withdrawals from pot, and he doesn’t do anything else on a regular enough basis. So this is fucking stupid, and he’s over it. His face obviously reflects this because Javi just nods and types something else into the computer. 

“When is the doctor coming up here? Whatever the hell you put in there isn’t doing shit.” Connor flips a hand backward toward the IV and glares a little because why not.

“I told you it wouldn’t do much. But lucky for you, your vitals aren’t in the heart attack danger range anymore.”

Connor just rolls his eyes. He has no idea if that’s actually a real thing or if the guy’s just being a dick, but whatever. He hears someone at the door again, but instead of being the doctor coming to offer him some kind of relief, it’s just his mom. She walks in with a cup of coffee and what appears to be a bag of some kind of peanuts or something. She still doesn’t look pleased, but she looks a little calmer than she did a few minutes ago.

“Dr. Ramsey said he’ll be up in a little while to talk to you.” Javi looks past Connor and over to his mom. He’s obviously done with his interrogation because he starts wheeling the computer cart out. “Hopefully it won’t be too much longer.”

Connor kind of wishes he had an excuse to keep him around a little longer, even though he’s seriously getting on his fucking nerves. But the second he’s left alone with his mom, everything is weird and tense, and the moments ago freakout is still hanging heavily over their heads. Connor really wishes he could just go hide in the bathroom or something because it’s so fucking awkward, but he literally can’t even get out of bed without major assistance and at least two people helping him. So running away to hide just isn’t going to happen.

Connor just lies there and watches his mom drink coffee and stare at her phone for a couple of minutes until she obviously decides to be the grownup and breaks the silence. “Your heartrate is down.”

Connor figures it must have been pretty high since everyone wants to comment on it. He wasn’t paying attention, but he has noticed that both his heartrate and his blood pressure seem to shoot up pretty quickly at the slightest annoyance. His new favorite game is watching his monitors every time his dad shows up to visit. He’s pretty sure most seventeen year olds don’t deal with skyrocketing numbers like that- normal seventeen year olds anyway. But that makes sense, since he’s nowhere freaking near normal.

“He put something in my IV to level it.” Connor barely mumbles the answer, but his mom’s always been pretty good at hearing him even when he’s trying not to be heard. So she just nods, and then they sit there in that ugly silence again. 

The pain is still bothering him everywhere. He’s not crying anymore, but he could probably start again real fast. Especially if the stupid doctor doesn’t get up here to talk to his mom and give him something to actually help. He tries really hard to just block the pain out, to just remove himself from his body or something. He can do that sometimes. He never talks about it, but there have been plenty of times in his life when it feels like he’s just standing beside his body watching everything happen from the outside. Like he’s not even there- not even a part of himself or something batshit like that. It usually only happens during the real bad times, the times he needs to check out for his own safety and sanity. It’s scary, though, because some of the shit he hears and sees himself say and do is actually insane. And seeing your craziness on plain display is never great. 

But he’d give just about anything to be removed from his body right now. 

… … …

Five hours later, he’s waking up and feeling significantly better. 

He’s pretty sure that might be the longest he’s slept since he’s been in here, and he knows it’s because the on call doctor finally prescribed him something decent. He still hurts, and there’s no euphoric high like he got from the morphine that first night. But it’s still a ton better. The pain is manageable, and even though there’s no euphoria, he still feels chilled enough that he doesn’t immediately want to pick up the closest bedpan and like hurl it at the wall.

His main doctor is there, talking to his mom by the window. He could follow his normal protocol and eavesdrop on them, but in the spirit of not being a total asshole, he actually opens his eyes and makes his presence known. He expects some lecture from Dr. Milton on his drug usage and a complete rundown of everything he told Javi, but he gets none of that. Instead, she just walks over to him and starts her standard two minutes or less examination.

“Feeling better?” She starts peeling the bandage from his head at the same time that he nods it. “We’ll keep going with this dosage of pain management then unless something changes.” 

He doesn’t know what’s supposed to change, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he just grits his teeth while she pulls the final layer of bandage away from his head wound. It stings, and the tape sticks a little to his wound. The doctor doesn’t seem to care at all- she just pushes his head backward to get a better look.

“This looks good.” He’s sure it looks _anything_ but good, but he doesn’t say that. “How’s your leg feeling?”

It’s still in a full cast, so there’s not much for her to examine. He just shrugs a little, but then nods like that’s some kind of answer to her question. She seems to understand him, though, and scribbles something into the chart in her hand.

“I’m going get you scheduled for some light PT. It won’t be much at all, but we need to get you up a little longer today.”

And then that’s it. She’s gone before he can really say or do anything. That’s how it always is, though. He sees her for a second in the morning, and then it’s just his nurses pretty much for the rest of the day. Whatever. He’s literally never going to get out of here.

His breakfast tray’s already been brought up, and his mom’s messing with it. She seems significantly less annoyed with him this morning, and he watches as she opens his milk carton and pours it into his cup. Then she wheels the tray table closer to him and helps him adjust his bed so that he’s at a better position to pretend to eat. The food looks like shit- some powdered eggs, a sausage patty, strawberry yogurt, milk, and orange juice. 

He downs the milk in two drinks and then reaches for the yogurt. He’s not touching the rest of that shit.

His mom continues to fuss over him, adjusting his pillows and then frowning at the now unbandaged wound on his head. He almost asks for a mirror, but he doesn’t. He does cringe when her fingers glide across his hairline- not because she accidentally scrapes over his wound, but because the motion makes him suddenly very aware of his hair. It hasn’t been washed in days, and even though it’s pulled back, it kind of feels like there’s something alive in it or something.

“Connor.” His mom sounds stressed and kind of nervous about whatever she’s going to say. He’s reminded of the first time she found pot in his room, and he wonders if she’s been handed a list of all the misdeeds he confessed to last night. He braces himself for the millionth _dangers of drugs_ talk of his life, but that’s not what he gets at all. “Who’s Evan Hansen?”

Okay. _What?_ He just stares at her because he has no clue what the fuck she’s talking about or why she’s asking him about some random weird kid from school.

“I found the letter you wrote him.” She frowns for a second but then tries to play it off. “Some things in it were a little concerning, honey.”

“What letter?” He’s so fucking confused. And he’s pretty sure it has nothing at all to do with the pain medication being pumped through his IV.

His mom goes over to her purse and then appears a second later with a piece of white paper. She unfolds it and sets it down on the table in front of him. “You had it with you the day of the accident. I guess you were planning on giving it to him later or the next morning or something.”

Connor stares at the letter. 

_Dear Evan Hansen._

He blinks at it, reading through it quickly until his memory’s triggered, and he suddenly remembers. The computer lab… The cast… He still doesn’t remember anything about the actual wreck, but the rest of the day has been coming back to him in a little spurts. And now he remembers all about Evan Hansen.

“I didn’t fucking write that.” He picks it up and holds it back out to her. She looks a little confused, but she takes it anyway. 

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Connor.”

“I didn’t. Fucking. _Write._ That.” He repeats himself more slowly and more pointedly. 

She’s not buying it at all. “It was in your pocket.”

“You went through my stuff?!”

And that just makes her roll her eyes. “Connor, they literally cut your clothes off and handed them back to me in a plastic bag. So yes, I went through your stuff.”

He wants to ask for the dimebag he suddenly remembers buying off Chris Cooper after sixth period, but he figures that’s probably not the best course of action at the moment. He’s pretty sure that had to be in his pocket, too, and he’d much rather have that than some fucked up letter that was written to purposely make him look like a psycho. He bites down on his back teeth and tries not to react to the memory.

“You don’t know how happy I am that you have such a close friend.” His mom just keeps on talking, and he shouldn’t look at her because the last thing he needs right now is to notice to the tears that are once again glistening in the corner of her eyes. “I’m so glad you’ve got someone to talk to. I just…” She frowns and wipes quickly at the edge of her left eye. “I just worry about some of the things you said. About how you obviously feel so alone and how you wish you could connect with Zoe and-“

He blocks her out. Connect with Zoe? That’s basically the last fucking thing he wants. He can’t even believe this is happening. Why the hell would his mom think he’d ever put this kind of shit into writing, even if it were _true?_

“But I’m just so glad you’ve got a friend. You have no idea, Connor… I just… I’m just so happy.”

She keeps going on and on, flipping back and forth between how thrilled she is that he’s has a friend to write letters with and how concerned she is that his note seems so depressed. He wants to yell at her again that it’s not his fucking letter and that he doesn’t fucking know Evan Hansen and doesn’t fucking give a shit about connecting with Zoe and that yeah, he might want to just fucking disappear, but he’s not going to write a fucking essay about it.

But for some reason, he just finds himself sitting there in silence. He eats his yogurt and watches his mom and wonders for probably the billionth time of his life why he can’t just do anything that makes her even remotely happy. All he ever does is make her life miserable.

But look how happy she is thinking that a totally misconstrued friendship with the weirdest fucking kid in school somehow makes him slightly less of a loser than she feared.

And maybe that’s why he just says nothing.


	4. Evan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of these characters.

He spends three straight days in freakout mode.

Now, it’s not like that’s crazy unusual or anything because he’s basically always in freakout mode. That’s kind of like his go-to mode, so he shouldn’t be surprised or whatever, but this isn’t the basic average normal freakout. It’s the life totally screwed, things definitely, _definitely_ not okay kind of freakout. And since he literally has no other choice, he ends up telling Jared all about the letter and how Connor’s just like disappeared into thin air. And Jared, of course, just makes fun of him because that’s _his_ go to mode, and whatever. Evan’s used to it- Jared’s basically been making fun of him since he could talk. Or at least since he has cognitive memories, but whatever. And so that’s that. Jared tells him that his freakout is totally warranted and that Connor’s going to destroy his life and probably tell the whole world that he’s some kind of freak who writes letters to himself and has zero sense of normalcy whatsoever. And yeah. That’s great.

Evan spends the whole night biting his nails and literally pulling the threads out of the blanket on his bed because he can’t deal with any of that. His life already sucks enough as it is, and he just can’t deal with Connor Murphy letting the whole world in on what might be the most mortifying thing that’s ever happened to him. Nobody was supposed to see that letter. He probably wasn’t even going to show it to Dr. Sherman because he’s not stupid enough to think that would just go smoothly. He’d have to write a different one or just show up without one because there’s no way he’d ever be able to just show something like that off, even to his therapist. His therapist needs to think that he’s getting better. His mom needs to think that he’s getting better. Everyone needs to think that he’s getting better because none of them can know how screwed up he really is inside. He’s pretty sure there’s not enough therapy in the world to actually fix him, and that’s definitely not something his mom needs to know about because she’s already pretty much booked up with other crap. 

It doesn’t matter anyway- he totally skipped his whole appointment after Connor ran off with the note. He just told his mom he had an upset stomach and ran home because there was no way he could face his doctor and not totally melt down after that. Just no way.

But that’s how it goes for three whole days. He’s a nervous freaking wreck, and he just can’t deal with anything. Every single day, he looks around for Connor and then gets a little more nervous every time he doesn’t see him. He’s so preoccupied with looking for Connor that it doesn’t even register with him that he hasn’t seen Zoe, either. But that’s the stupidest part because he _always_ notices Zoe. 

It’s not until she’s walking up to him on Friday that he realizes he can’t remember seeing her since Monday. He’s also kind of freaked out because her face is pretty bruised up, and she has a cut shooting down her cheek and held together with stitches. The sight of her face freaks him out even more than he would normally be if she suddenly came up to him in the hallway after fifth period. And really? That’s a whole lot of freakout. Because seriously, why is Zoe Murphy walking up to him?

“Hey.” She says it like it’s nothing, like she just comes up to him every day or something, like he hasn’t been obsessing over since tenth grade, or like any of this is totally normal. It’s totally _not._

“H-Hey…”

“So my brother says you guys are friends.”

“W-what?” 

He doesn’t know what’s happening. Like for real, he’s pretty sure his brain is short-circuiting or something, and he’s gonna have like an aneurysm in the middle of the humanities hallway or something, and oh, god. She totally knows about the letter, and she’s just screwing with him because she thinks he’s some creepy stalker or something. And she’s totally going to embarrass him and then tell the whole school and laugh about what a freak he is, but she’s also probably totally grossed out that he even mentioned her because who _does_ that? Who’s that obsessed with some girl they’ve literally never even had a real conversation with? God, he’s such a freak.

“My brother,” she repeats slowly. “He says you’re friends. Is that not true?”

And she’s staring at him with this blank face that he almost reads to be a warning or something. Like she’s trying to catch him in a lie or something. Or maybe trying to catch her brother in a lie or something. She’s just staring at him all intensely like she’s some kind of detective or something, and all he can think about is how hot it is. And he’s sure there’s like sweat all over his forehead or something. He probably looks insane, but she’s just still staring at him, like she’s waiting for an answer or something. 

“Uhhhh….”

Evan’s so confused. He has no idea what’s happening. He doesn’t have a clue about _anything_ right now, so he just says the first thing that pops into his head.

“What happened to your, uh, what happened to your face?”

What the _hell,_ Evan! 

Zoe, though, doesn’t seem offended or whatever. She actually just kind of looks at him in shock, and he’s still really unsure of what’s even going on. 

“The wreck…” She says it all pointedly like he’s supposed to know what she’s talking about. Like it’s supposed to be normal common knowledge, or at least like he’s supposed to know about it. He doesn’t, and he’s sure he looks appropriately stupid enough because she just kind of gives him a weird look. “We had a wreck on Monday. Me and Connor. You didn’t know?”

They had a wreck? He… Well, it’s not like he’s at the center of the gossip chain or anything, but Jared didn’t know, and usually Jared kind of knows everything. Or at least he says he does. But whatever. No, no, he didn’t know they were in a wreck, and what the hell? No wonder they haven’t been at school.

“Are you, did you guys- are you okay?” He finally spits out a coherent enough sentence, and his eyes dart over the cut on her face because it looks really bad. And how did he not know that they were in a wreck?

“Connor’s leg is really messed up. He’s in the hospital.” Zoe’s just still staring at him like she’s totally suspicious of something, and he really has no idea what’s going on. He kind of wants to throw up or run away or maybe both, but he just stands there because his feet are totally not going to move. “You didn’t know your best friend was in the hospital?”

“M-my best friend?” Evan flinches at the way his voice breaks. He totally doesn’t know what’s happening at all, and none of this is good for his freakout mode. “Connor, he told you, Connor said… Connor told you that he and I, that we’re friends?”

“You’re not?”

Evan just stares at her. He can’t say anything because his mouth is totally dry, and he doesn’t even know what he would say anyway. So he just stands there and looks like an idiot in front of _Zoe Murphy_ because apparently he’s best friend with her brother now? What is happening?

“Look,” she sounds annoyed or irritated or something. He doesn’t know. He’s sure he’s doing something to get on her nerves, probably just being an idiot like normal, and god, what is wrong with him. “Is he like threatening you or blackmailing you or something? Because if he is, I can tell my dad, and he’ll make it stop.”

Evan shakes his head quickly. He doesn’t have any idea what’s going on, but he’s pretty sure that he should just go along with whatever Connor’s saying because if he doesn’t, that’s probably just going to make him really angry. And the last thing Evan needs in his life right now is Connor Murphy being pissed at him because that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. So he just shakes his head and then starts stuttering out some kind of incoherent babbling because of _course_ his mouth won’t cooperate. 

“No, um, yeah. No, no, he’s not… Yeah, we’re… friends… I just, I didn’t know about the wreck because, I guess because I don’t really talk to a lot people? And Connor, yeah, maybe Connor just like, well, you said he was in the hospital, so maybe he just-“

“He doesn’t have a phone. It got fucked in the wreck.”

Evan nods. “Yeah, oh. Yeah, that- that explains it then. I guess. Yeah.”

Zoe just narrows her eyes at him, obviously still not totally buying whatever’s happening, but can he really blame her? Like is he literally the worst person ever to be put on the spot like this? He is so confused, and he has no idea why his mouth is just moving and forming words or half-words or whatever.

“He wanted me to ask you if you’d go see him.”

“A-at the hospital?” Zoe nods, eyebrows raised because obviously she thinks he’s an idiot. Because obviously he _is_ an idiot. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure. I gu- yeah, sure.” He nods quickly, too quickly. Slow down, Evan, you look like a dumbass. “What hospital?”

“Mercy.” She pulls her lips together for a second and then lets out a little sigh. “He’s in room 329. He wants you to come after school if you can. Probably because my dad’ll be at work, and my mom has to go to her small group meeting at 3.”

Evan nods again, purposely focusing on not being too crazy with it. “O-okay. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go… visit him.”

Zoe doesn’t say anything for a second. She just stares at him, but then she obviously decides it’s not worth the effort or something because she rolls her eyes and shrugs. “Cool.”

And then she walks away, and Evan’s like 98.998 percent sure that he’s going to die before 4 PM.

… … … 

“You’re going to fucking die. You realize that, right?”

Evan totally doesn’t need the reminder, but he kind of doesn’t need a lot of the crap that Jared says, even though that somehow never stops Jared or even deters him in the slightest. For as long as Evan can remember, Jared’s kind of been some weird lovechild hybrid of the angel and the devil that sit on people’s shoulders in cartoons and whisper advice into their ears. He loves making his opinion known, and even though Evan has to admit that sometimes he’s right, he’s also been known to drag Evan in very much the wrong direction on occasion. Because that’s what he does. He just tells Evan what to do, and sometimes Evan ignores him, but usually he doesn’t. He doesn’t know why. He thinks it’s probably like second nature or something, like it’s just literally imbedded in his brain that he should just listen to him and usually do whatever he says. It’s probably lame, but Evan’s pretty lame, so that makes perfect sense.

They’re standing in the parking lot after school. Evan basically had to run all the way to the parking lot to make sure he caught him before he left because Jared was ignoring his texts and urgent messages of _EMERGENCY!_ But he caught him, and now they’re here, standing by Jared’s car, and Evan’s just watching Jared’s face as he relays the whole Zoe conversation. It’s somewhere between horror and wild amusement.

“Dude, that is a _trap._ I don’t care how hot you think Zoe Murphy is. Whatever the hell’s going on there is a fucking _trap._ And you’re gonna die.”

“But she said, she said that Connor… Connor told her that. I don’t know, I don’t, she doesn’t…. I don’t think she believes it.”

“Well, who would believe it?!” Jared laughs a little too evilly and shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure she knows her brother a psychopath, and I’m pretty sure she realizes that you’re basically the last person he’d pick for a friend. No offense.”

“How… How is that no offense?”

Jared rolls his eyes. “Because it’s not exactly like you and Connor have much in common. Or _anything!_ I mean, this isn’t some teen movie where all the underdog losers team up and band together and take over the school. No offense.”

Right. No offense. Underdog losers, sure, right. No offense. Okay.

“He’s got your sex letter, and now he’s about to use it to ruin your life. Just like I said he would. I told you this was going to happen.” Jared shakes his head, and Evan tugs nervously at a loose string on his cast. He’s pretty sure his stomach is competing in the Olympic trials the way it keeps flipping, and holy crap, he’s going to die. “He’s probably going to blackmail you with it and like force you to be his legs or something. He’s gonna have you going all around town to buy him crack and beat people up or whatever it is that he normally does and can’t do now that he’s stuck in the hospital.”

“What time is it?” The dread in Evan’s stomach when he asks the question is super heavy, and he kind of feels like he’s counting down to his own demise. He sort of is, he guesses, at least in a way because yeah, he’s probably going to die.

“3:39.” Jared pulls his phone out and glances at it, and Evan feels like he might puke. If he’s going to do this, he has to go now.

Holy crap, he can’t do this.

He does it. He doesn’t know how he gets the nerve up to actually accept Jared’s highly amused offer for a “ride to his grave,” but he does. And then he half-wants to beg Jared to go up with him, but he doesn’t because he doesn’t feel like being laughed at. He knows he won’t do it, so he doesn’t even ask. He just nods and swallows the lump in his throat when Jared says, “You better fucking text me as soon as you get home. If you’re alive at least. Don’t text me if you’re dead because I do not need any ghost shit in my life right now.”

His mom used to work at this hospital when he was little, but she transferred like five or six years ago. Evan used to come here sometimes when he was a kid, not to work with her or whatever, but if she had to come pick something up or drop something off or something. Like he remembers walking around with her and thinking it was too big and too scary, and he always hated hospitals anyway, but this one was even worse because it just seemed really massive when he was a kid. He was terrified of being in there, and he just remembers clinging to his mom’s hand and freaking out at the thought of getting lost in there. He doesn’t think it’s gotten any smaller as he’s gotten bigger, and the fact that he literally feels like he’s marching to his death just makes the walk to the elevator and the ride to the third floor all the worse.

Room 329. Room 329 at Mercy East is where he’s going to take his last breath. Great. He sends up a quick prayer and thinks he should probably text his parents and tell them he loves them in case he doesn’t make it out alive. But he doesn’t because his mom would freak the hell out and think he was being kidnapped or tortured or something, and his dad would probably just text him back three days later like he normally does, but he’d already be dead and possibly even buried by then, so really what would be the point?

He gets to 329, and the door’s cracked open. He doesn’t know if he’s like supposed to knock or just go right in because if he knocks, Connor might ignore him and then he’ll just be left standing in the hall looking like an idiot. But what if he just goes right in, and there’s a nurse in there like giving Connor a sponge bath or something, and then he’ll have to figure out whether he should just stand there and pretend to be casual and act like he’s not freaked out by the sight of a sponge bath or whether he should take off and run back into the hallway and then piss Connor off because he’d probably make a scene and draw a bunch of attention to himself. And okay, seriously. _Stop._

He finally decides on a mix of the two. He knocks twice and then pushes the door open slowly, so that way if there’s any sponge bathing or something weird going on, somebody can yell at him to wait. Nobody yells, so he finally pushes the door all the way and steps into the room. And there’s Connor, lying in a hospital bed and looking about a thousand times worse than Zoe did. Holy crap.

Practically his whole face is one big bruise, and there’s a wide bandage at the top of his forehead. He’s got a sheet pulled over half his body, but there’s a full leg cast sticking out, and he’s hooked up to an IV, like three different monitors… He looks terrible. Like really, really bad. And Evan wonders what kind of person it makes him that his first thought is how difficult it would be for Connor to _actually_ kill him when he looks that bad off. 

“So Zoe talked to you.” Connor just looks at him, doesn’t seem impressed one way or the other, just seems kind of indifferent, and Evan feels himself calm just _slightly._

He nods, swallowing and trying to make his mouth work because it suddenly seems super, super dry and kind of non-functional. He manages to make it work, even though he’s sure he sounds like an idiot or something. “Uh, yeah. She said, she, uh, she said you wanted me to visit?”

“I signed your cast.” 

Evan blinks, because he doesn’t really know what to say to that. He glances down at his arm where CONNOR is written in huge black sharpie, and then he looks back at Connor to see that he’s _also_ staring at the cast. 

And… “Um, yeah.” He has no clue what else to say, so he just goes with the lamest option possible. It kind of sounds like Connor’s surprised or something, like he’s just realizing something or remembering it or something. It’s weird, and Evan still pretty much just wants to run away.

After a couple of seconds, Connor looks back up, and Evan can practically see the struggle on his face to be cordial, and he doesn’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. It’s a good thing because it means he’s less likely to flip out and find some way to murder Evan from his hospital bed, but it’s also bad because it means this is taking a lot of effort and could go south super quickly. Neither option is great.

“So, um. You know that letter you wrote? To yourself or whatever?”

And here it comes.

Evan shuts his eyes because he’s pretty sure he might just like throw up all over the floor. He shakes his head a few times but then nods and then shakes it again because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

“Yeah, so my mom found it.”

Evan opens his eyes, looks at Connor, and decides okay, yes, this is definitely the day he’s going to die. Maybe not from murder, but he’s definitely going to die from embarrassment and humiliation, and holy crap, if Connor’s mom has seen the note, that probably means Zoe’s seen it, too. And… And, and no. No, he just can’t. 

“Oh…”

“Jesus Christ, stop shaking. You look like a fucking chihuahua or something.” 

Evan sucks in a breath, trying to force himself to stop literally trembling because he doesn’t think that’s going to help him not stroke out or something. At least he’s in a hospital, though, in case he really does have a stroke or loses consciousness or just dies. At least they won’t have to take his body too far to the morgue. He shudders because that just makes him think about being shoved into a tiny small space with a bunch of dead bodies all around him, and even though he knows logically that he would be dead and not at all conscious of whatever’s happening around him, the thought of it still really freaks him out. And he just can’t deal with that.

“So _anyway,”_ and Connor sounds annoyed, which great, of course he’s annoying him. What else would he do? Wonderful. “My mom saw that letter, and she thinks I wrote it.”

“Sh-she thinks… She thinks _you_ wrote it?”

Connor’s eyes are narrowed, and he looks like he wants to say something really rude, which of course he does because Evan’s just standing there repeating him like some kind of idiot, and _god_.

“She thinks I wrote it,” he says slowly and kind of like he’s talking to a mentally incompetent 3 year old. “To you.”

“She thinks you wro-“

“Jesus fucking Christ, I just fucking said that!”

Evan jumps a little, and Connor totally looks like he’s having to physically force himself not to pick something up and hurl it at his head. Which. Okay, really, he wouldn’t necessarily blame him if he did something like that because Evan can hear himself and can hear how stupid he sounds and knows what a freak he must seem like. This is all a disaster.

“She thinks I wrote the letter. To you. She thinks that we’re friends.” Connor’s voice is all gritted teeth and forced calmness, and Evan can barely even form two words.

“And y-you… ?”

“And I let her think that.” Connor rolls his eyes and then winces like something hurts, but of course something probably hurts because look at him. Every part of his body looks like it’s bruised or cut or scratched or something. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. So look, now we get to pretend to be friends. You cool with that?”

Evan just stands there and opens and closes his mouth a few times because to be honest, he’s still _really_ confused. And then there’s Jared in his head telling him that this is all a trap, and what if it is? Like what if this is some big prank, and his whole world really _is_ about to be ruined because who in their right mind trusts _Connor Murphy_ when he says he wants to be friends? Or pretend friends? Is pretend friends even a real thing? Like Jared always says they’re _family_ friends, but at least that makes sense because their families really are friends- like their moms or whatever, and maybe their dads used to get along okay, too, but Evan doesn’t really remember because that was a long time ago, and all he really remembers from that time are all the times Jared made him sit and watch while he played on his DS and how he’d always talk how awesome he was at all the games, and whenever Evan would actually get up the nerve to ask for a turn, Jared would just say no because he probably sucked and might break the DS or something. And so then Evan would just literally sit there beside him on Jared’s bed for hours and watch him play while their parents got drunk downstairs or something. But that’s family friends, and pretend friends kind of just sounds like something toddlers have or like crazy people maybe, and-

“Did you even hear me?”

Evan jumps again and then tells himself to stop being so weird. He nods and says, “Yeah, I… yeah, okay.”

“Okay?”

“We can pr-pretend to be friends.”

 _What_ is he even doing? He has no idea why he’s saying these things or agreeing to this because this is probably a trick, just like Jared said it was. He’s probably willingly putting himself out there for something terrible, and he knows it- but he’s just still nodding and agreeing because he’s just that much of an idiot. 

Connor kind of looks confused, like maybe he doesn’t know why Evan’s agreeing, which okay, Evan also kind of doesn’t know why he’s agreeing, but that’s not the point. Connor just looks at him with a mix of surprise and maybe suspicion, and it all just makes Evan even more uncomfortable. 

“It’s just for my mom.”

And Evan nods because he gets that. He gets that people just want to pretend to be friends with him because of their moms- he’s totally used to that. He’s got like over a decade’s worth of practice at that exact thing. Maybe this is a little different than it is with Jared, but he’s basically just too scared to say no. Connor’s crazy.

He’s still looking at Evan like he doesn’t really trust him or understand why he’s agreeing so easily, but the thing about Evan is… he’s not going to ask questions. When people tell him to do something, he usually just does it because it’s almost always easier than trying to think up reasons not to. Or at least trying to verbalize those reasons. He doesn’t like being put on the spot, so he normally just does whatever he can to get off of it as quickly as possible.

“Don’t make it weird. Just… It’s not real, okay? I just want my mom to leave me the fuck alone, and this will help.”

“Okay.”

“Look, are you fucking with me?” Connor’s tone of voice kind of just makes Evan want to run away. He sounds pissed off and sort of like he might hit Evan if he had any way of getting out of his hospital bed. 

“N-no?”

“Because I will show that fucking letter to Zoe and everybody else if you’re trying to fuck me over, I swear to god.”

It’s so _hot_. Evan’s pretty sure he’s going to puke or pass out any second now, and he just wants to run away. He grabs aimlessly for the hem of his shirt because his hands need to do something, and he just swallows and barely manages to whisper/choke out a few words that he’s positive just make him sound even more pathetic than he already does. 

“Pl… Please don’t tell Zoe…”

Connor glares at him again, but he still says, “Lucky for you, I don’t make a habit of talking to her unless I’m forced. But don’t fuck me over.”

Evan doesn’t know how that makes sense. He obviously talks to her sometimes- he forced her to come find Evan at school after all, but he just tries not to think about it. He’s going to freak out and maybe like panic or start crying if he has to envision Zoe finding out about that letter because he just wouldn’t be able to deal with that. She’ll think he’s some kind of creepy stalker or something, and she’ll probably be freaked out and like take out a restraining order or something. Either that, or she’ll just tell everyone at school that he’s obsessed with her, and then everyone will just think he’s even more of a freak than they already do.

But because he’s positive that the universe really, truly hates him, the door to the hospital room opens at that exact moment, and Zoe appears with her backpack and a woman that Evan assumes has to be her mom. They both just look at him when they come through the door- Zoe with suspicion and her mom with confusion, which obviously she’d be confused seeing some kid she’s never met before standing in her son’s hospital room. And really, Evan just needs to go.

“That’s my mom.” Connor barely mutters the obvious introduction, but Evan looks over at him anyway. Connor just gives him a look that he interprets to be some kind of warning, like _play along or die_. Or something. “Mom, that’s Evan.”

Despite the fact that Connor probably couldn’t sound less enthused if he tried, his mom’s eyes light up, and she looks like somebody just gave her a million dollars. Well, maybe she looks happier than that, since Evan really wouldn’t be shocked if she already had a million dollars- the ring on her finger looks like it probably cost more than his mom makes in a year. 

“Evan!” She sounds so happy and giddy or something, and it’s freaking weird because her kids _never_ sound like that. Not that he talks to them a lot or whatever. Obviously. But he’s been around Connor enough in school and pays more attention to Zoe than is probably healthy, so he kind of knows that _giddy_ isn’t exactly a word anyone would use to describe either one of them.

Their mom, though, seems thrilled and excited, and Evan is a little shocked when she throws both her arms around his shoulders and hugs him like they’ve known each other forever or like he’s some long-lost friend. He doesn’t know what to do, so he just awkwardly taps her back, super aware of the cast on his arm all of a sudden.

“I’m so glad you were able to come visit.” Mrs. Murphy just smiles at him when she pulls away from the hug, _beams_ actually. Like she’s just so happy to see him or something. Evan doesn’t know what to do, so he just nods a little nervously and tries the least fake smile he can manage.

“Here’s your stuff.” Zoe interrupts the love fest and drops the backpack on the floor beside her.

Connor looks over at the bag and then up at his sister and nods. His voice is not at all sincere when he says, “Oh, gee, thanks. I can totally reach that.”

Zoe kind of glares back. “Like you’re gonna fucking do homework anyway.” She still kicks it in his general direction anyway, and it slides maybe three inches closer to his bed.

Mrs. Murphy watches the exchange and then quickly perks up in what Evan assumes is some kind of attempt to diffuse the situation, even though he’s pretty sure she’s had to deal with a lot worse than this. “Why don’t we skip hospital food, and I’ll order in something good for dinner?” She smiles, almost kind of nervously, and looks at Connor with raised eyebrows. She kind of nods, but it’s the question kind of nod, and then she says, “What do you guys want? Evan, what do you like?”

Evan stutters out, “Oh, I sh-should go…” at exactly the same time that Connor says, _”It’s too early for dinner,”_ and Zoe says, _”I’m going home.”_

Mrs. Murphy looks disappointed, but it’s that kind of disappointed that moms always do when they just blink and force a smile and nod like their feelings aren’t hurt or something. He knows that look pretty well because his mom does it a lot, usually when she gets some great idea and thinks Evan can handle some new task or adventure that he totally can never handle. And whenever he tells her that he can’t handle it, she just gets that look and nods, which is exactly what Mrs. Murphy is doing now.

“Well, we’ll have to do it some other time.” Her voice is full of fake cheeriness, and she laughs a little. “Hopefully we won’t be in the hospital too much longer, and you can come over to the house for dinner, Evan.”

He nods, a little jerkily, but he doesn’t know what else to do. “Yeah. Yeah, no, that sounds… great.”

She beams at him again and nods. Evan glances over at Connor to see if that was the right response, but he doesn’t get any death threat eyes or anything, so he assumes it’s okay. Zoe’s still just looking at him like she doesn’t believe any of this is real, and he only makes eye contact with her for a second before he’s staring at the ground again nervously. 

“Well, thanks,” he says dumbly. “It was… it was nice to meet you.” He looks back up at Mrs. Murphy who just smiles at him, and he feels a little disgusted with himself. He still manages to mumble, “Bye, Connor,” and throw up a half-wave in Zoe’s direction before he bolts for the door. 

He miraculously doesn’t get lost in the hospital, and by the time he gets back outside, he’s pretty sure he’s twenty seconds away from a full blown panic attack. He has no idea what just happened or what he’s gotten himself into. He still doesn’t even know if it’s real, and he just hears that angel/devil Jared hybrid in his head over and over.

_It’s a trap. It’s a trap. It’s a trap._


	5. Zoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of these characters.

When Zoe was eleven, her parents split up for a few months.

She still remembers them sitting her and Connor down after dinner one night and breaking the news. She should have predicted that something was going on because they got cake for dessert, and it was nobody’s birthday. Junk food was extremely limited in their house, and the best they could ever hope for dessert wise was some kind of fruit parfait or some homemade sugar-free popsicles or something. They only ever got _real_ dessert if they were on vacation or it was a special occasion. The fact that it was neither should have tipped her off.

She remembers sitting there at the table while her parents told them that their dad would be moving out- just for a little while, just to see how things go- and Zoe started crying because that was the normal human reaction to finding out that your parents were splitting up. She didn’t buy the temporary thing because she had enough friends whose parents had told them the exact same thing, and temporary turned out to be permanent. 

Connor didn’t cry. He didn’t do anything. He just sat there and ate cake and didn’t say anything.

Zoe kept crying, asking why and demanding an explanation. And they gave the same bullshit explanations that parents always give- we’re just taking a break, it has nothing to do with you guys, we still love you both very much. And blah blah blah. Zoe didn’t want her parents to break up. More than that, though, she just didn’t want her dad to leave. Her dad always defended her and took up for her. Her mom always took Connor’s side on everything. Connor. Who was mean and hateful and did horrible things. Their mom always took up for him- it didn’t matter what he said or did or how much he hurt Zoe- she always defended him. And Zoe’s only ally in the house was her dad who, it seemed, hated Connor just as much as she did. Logically, she knew that wasn’t true. Her dad didn’t _hate_ Connor any more than her mother _hated_ her. As their parents, they were under strict obligation to love their kids no matter what. But that didn’t change the fact that they both had clear favorites, and the one who would choose Zoe was moving into a one bedroom apartment all the way downtown.

Zoe kept crying for the next two days while her dad packed up some of his things and started moving them out. She screamed and cried and eventually just started throwing huge fits, demanding that he take her with him. She remembers her mom bursting into tears the morning he was supposed to move out- not because her husband was leaving, but definitely because Zoe was on the ground sobbing, begging- _pleading-_ that he take her with him. Looking back, she realizes how over the top dramatic it was, especially since he was literally moving fifteen minutes away. At the time, though, she was literally choking on tears, couldn’t breathe properly, and had to be carried back up to her room. 

Her dad sat down with her on her bed and hugged her and tried to get her to calm down. She needed to stop crying, he said, because it was upsetting her mom. Zoe remembers yelling back that _he_ was the one upsetting her mom because _he_ was the one leaving. She realizes now that her mom’s feelings were just hurt because Zoe clearly, clearly did not want to stay with her, but that fact alluded her at eleven. Her dad told her that she could come visit whenever she wanted, told her to text him and he’d come pick her up. He told her she needed to calm down, though, because her mom was going to be sad, and she didn’t need to make things worse. Even at eleven, that seemed stupid to Zoe. She hated when adults put the weight of their own happiness or wellbeing on kids. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, and she knew it even back then. Her mom’s happiness shouldn’t have been her responsibility, but she doesn’t think she pointed this out.

Eventually, she calmed down enough to where she was just normal crying, not sobbing and choking. Her dad hugged her tight and kissed the side of her head and promised that he’d call her before bed. She remembers lying on her bed after he left her room and listening as he went next door and knocked. He knocked again after a few seconds. And then once more a few seconds later.

Connor never even opened the door.

She heard her dad give up and go back downstairs. A couple of minutes later, she heard the back door open and close, and from her window, she could see both of her parents in the driveway. They were talking beside her dad’s car, and when they glanced up in the direction of her window, she ducked out of sight and ran to the room next to hers. Unlike her dad, she didn’t bother knocking. Neither one of them had locks on their doors back then (some crap about fire safety or something), and she just burst right in.

Connor was on his bed, watching some movie on his laptop or something. He looked up and immediately told her to get out. She just started screaming at him that she hated him and that this was all his fault and that he was ruining their family. He got pissed and then _yelled_ at her to get out, and when she didn’t obey, he jumped up and grabbed her- _hard_ \- and started forcing her out. He had both of his hands digging painfully in to her shoulders. He was shoving her back and squeezing even more tightly as she struggled and pushed against him. They were basically the exact same size at that point. In another year, she’d be both taller and heavier than him, but at that point, they were pretty evenly matched. His anger made him much stronger, though, and before she knew it, she was being slammed into the hallway wall across from his door. He was yelling in her face to stay the fuck out of his room, and she was yelling back that she wished he’d just die.

And their parents just stayed outside in the driveway with no clue.

The weeks and months that followed were not the worst that she’d ever experienced, despite her fears. It turned out that her dad was telling the truth when he said she could visit whenever she wanted. She would call him three or four times a week, ask to come over, and he’d just come pick her up. She loved staying at his apartment, even though it was tiny compared to their house. She didn’t have her own room or anything, but she didn’t care. She’d sleep on the sofa or with her dad or sometimes even on the living room floor. It didn’t matter because her dad spoiled her so much, and she was far away from Connor. She liked it just being her and her dad. She didn’t have to fight with her brother or listen to her mom snap at her for agitating him. She just got to hang out with her dad who gave her whatever she wanted and let her do anything she wanted to. He didn’t cook, so they’d always go out to eat, and sometimes he’d even take her to McDonald’s or Taco Bell or something- something her mom would _never_ do. There were always Bagel Bites and ice cream in the freezer, and he’d buy her Coke or Root Beer or whatever she wanted from the grocery store. 

The best part was that Connor never wanted to visit. He never once called and asked if he could come over. The one and only time he visited was literally forced and ended before bedtime. They went out to dinner- the three of them- and Zoe remembers Connor trying to refuse and having to literally be forced outside by their mom (that was only time she forced him- after that, she flat out refused to make him do anything he didn’t want to). It was a terrible night. Connor was in one of his non-speaking moods and wouldn’t acknowledge anything their dad tried to say. He just sat in the restaurant and looked at his food without touching it. And Zoe remembers how frustrated her dad seemed and how it seemed like he was doing everything he could to not lose his temper. And she was so pissed at Connor because it’d been so long since she’d seen that look on her dad’s face, and she just remembers hating Connor for making it reappear. And when their dad took them home later that night, Connor just got out of the car and didn’t even say bye or anything. But Zoe leaned over the backseat and wrapped both her arms around her dad’s shoulders, pressed their cheeks together, and told him she loved him. Because as much as she didn’t think it was fair to make her be responsible for her mom’s happiness, she was desperate to make sure her dad didn’t feel bad. 

When she finally got inside, her mom was already making Connor a sandwich. And Zoe got mad and yelled that he wouldn’t be hungry if he actually ate the dinner their dad wasted money on. And he glared at her and told her to shut up, and her mom just said, _”Zoe, hush.”_ Because that was her go-to every time Zoe ever dared to point out the obvious. And more than anything, Zoe just wanted to run back outside and chase down her dad’s car so he could take her with him. She didn’t, though. She just stomped upstairs and turned her music on as loudly as it would go until her mom finally came up and turned it off and grumbled something at her about the neighbors. 

Zoe was upset when they had their first family dinner in four months and announced that her dad was moving home. She could look at her parents and tell that the smiles weren’t genuine. They were getting back together for some stupid reason, even though she knew they’d never admit it. Connor, once again, showed no reaction to the news. Zoe didn’t react much, either, which was strange given the fit she initially threw. She’d gotten used to her parents being apart, though, and she liked having somewhere to escape to. She’d run to her dad’s apartment at the smallest slight from Connor or her mother. She was growing used to the idea of a divorce and thought if they could hold on a few months later without filing that things would be fine. She’d heard from some boy in her class that judges let you choose who you wanted to live with once you turned twelve. She didn’t know if it was true, but she hoped it was. And anyway, her dad was a pretty important lawyer, so if he wanted her, she was sure he could probably beat her mom in court. But all of a sudden, none of that mattered because her parents weren’t getting divorced. Her dad was moving back home. 

And any escape she imagined just disappeared.

The week that follows her wreck kind of feels like those months she spent in the downtown apartment. They’re peaceful and quiet, and for the most part, it’s just her and her dad. Things are different now because she’s not a little kid anymore, so the thought of fast food doesn’t thrill her quite as much as it used to, but she still appreciates it when he orders in her favorite foods and makes a point to come home from work on time every single night because he knows she’s spending most of the days home alone. He does go to the hospital a couple of times a day- usually on his lunch and right after work. Her mom comes home every morning to hang out with her for a couple of hours and help her with whatever she might need help with. But for the most part, it’s just like the fantasy Zoe had when she was eleven- her mom takes Connor, and her dad takes her. 

Zoe tries to avoid the hospital. She still gets dragged there a couple of times, usually by her mom during those mid-morning visits. In the interest of keeping the peace and acknowledging the fact that having both of your children be involved in a horrible car accident has to suck, Zoe humors her mom and doesn’t complain too much when she’s dragged along to the hospital. Connor barely acknowledges her, which isn’t surprising and is fine really. Whatever momentary freakout she had immediately following the accident is gone, and she no longer cares. Connor’s fine. Sure, his leg’s messed up, but other than that, he’s fine. Knowing that makes it a lot easier to not care and to find the deep seated grudge that’s always been there between them.

The day before she goes back to school, Connor actually speaks to her voluntarily. It’s while their mom goes down to the cafeteria to get a latte and leaves them alone with The View. Connor mutes the TV and gives her a very strange, very unbelievable story about how he’s friends with _Evan Hansen_ and how he needs her to track Evan down and get him to visit after school tomorrow. Zoe doesn’t buy it for a second and tells him that. She doesn’t know what he’s plotting, but she’s pretty sure shoving Evan and his broken arm down in the hallway is enough damage. She’s not going to help him further mess with that kid, and she tells him that.

But she does. She seeks Evan out, tells him Connor wants to see him, and then shows up at the end of an awkward meeting between the two of them. She’s not sure why she encouraged it because she doesn’t believe it. There’s no way the two of them are friends. Barring the fact that they’re complete opposites, she’s literally never seen them speak to each other except that time Connor pushed him in the hallway the morning of the wreck. But for some reason, she still finds herself delivering the message… Whatever weird shit is going on, Evan’s obviously willing to go along with it. He agrees that it’s true, shows up at the hospital, and is standing there in Connor’s room when Zoe and her mom show up after jazz band.

That’s another thing. She hates not having a car. She knows they have to wait on insurance or whatever, but having to wait on rides from her parents is making her crazy, which is dumb, she knows, because she’s been driving on her own for less than a year. It feels like a lot longer, though, and she never realized how much personal therapy she does while driving herself around until she’s no longer doing it. Technically, there is a car she could drive. They’ve all shuffled everything around, and _technically_ she could take her mom’s car. Her dad’s been driving the rental that insurance provided, and if Zoe wants to drive, she knows she could drive her mom’s, and her mom would drive her dad’s. She knows there’s no way in hell anyone’s letting her near her dad’s car- she’s never driven it, likely never will- but she learned how to drive on her mom’s and knows how to handle it, even though the SUV is much bigger than her own car. Still, she doesn’t ever ask to drive her mom’s car- she’d much rather just complain about having no vehicle. Because the truth is, she’s a little scared of getting behind the wheel again. Cars in general are still making her jumpy, but the thought of driving kind of makes her sick to her stomach.

So she never asks. She just agrees when her parents say they’ll pick her up or take her wherever she needs to go. Her dad drops her off at school Monday morning after taking the whole weekend off to spend time with her. They ate a bunch of junk food and watched a bunch of Netflix, and it was really nice, as totally lame as that sounds. She could really get used to things being like that, which is why she’s not all that thrilled when her mom texts her during Spanish and tells her that Connor’s finally getting discharged. There are way too many exclamation marks, along with some smiley and heart emojis that look really stupid accompanying that message. Zoe’s not sure what she’s supposed to be so excited for, but she’s still really _trying_ with her mom, so she sends back a pretty generic _cool_ as an answer.

She passes Evan Hansen after school when she’s on her way to the band room. He’s obviously heading out to the buses or something, but she stops him anyway and passes the news along.

“Connor got out of the hospital today.”

He looks both surprised and petrified when she speaks to him, and she adds that to her list of suspicions. She sees him wiping his non-cast hand nervously on the side of his pants as he nods a little too quickly and immediately breaks eye contact with her. 

“O-oh, that’s good.”

She nods, staring at him and wondering what’s really going on with him. “Yeah. So I’m sure my mom’s going to be bugging you to come to dinner soon enough. I hope you like inedible food.”

He glances up at her like he doesn’t know if she’s serious or not. She forces a little smile because she feels bad that he obviously doesn’t understand sarcasm or something. When he sees her smile, he cracks one of his own. And Zoe’s never understood the term _cracked a smile_ more than she does in that moment. It literally looks like it takes real effort and almost like it’s cracked against his face. It only lasts for a split second before he breaks it and then returns to staring at the ground.

“Well…” And this is really fucking weird. “Bye then.”

He nods and mumbles, “Ohyeahokaybye,” really quickly before he basically runs away from her. 

She watches him hurry to get away from her, and part of her thinks that maybe he and Connor really _are_ friends. If they are, she can only imagine what horrible things Connor has said about her and what Evan must think of her. No wonder he’s running away. He’s probably heard that she’s an evil, stuck up bitch or something. That would explain why he always seems so nervous around her at least. 

Which… Whatever. If he’s actually friends with Connor, she thinks that says more about him than it does about her.

She gets a ride home with Ellie, since her dad texts her halfway through practice and asks if there’s anybody who can bring her. Apparently both he and her mom are busy trying to get Connor settled in, and Zoe just rolls her eyes at the text because it’s already starting. She hasn’t even been home yet, and she’s already starting to just fade right back into the scenery.

She’s surprised to see Connor sitting on the living room sofa when she gets home. She expected him to be locked in his room by now, especially after an entire week of never being alone. When she seems him, though, it hits her for the first time that there’s no way he can even get to his room. She’s not sure why she didn’t think about it before, but there’s no way he can manage stairs when he literally can’t stand up and walk two feet without a ton of assistance.

He doesn’t look particularly happy, but she assumes he has to be in at least somewhat of a decent mood, considering the fact that he’s finally escaped the hospital. So she tries to make a joke. “I forgot what you looked like in normal clothes.”

To be fair, normal clothes is pushing it. He’s wearing a hoodie (pretty normal) and some oversized sweatpants she’s never seen before (definitely not normal). He just sort of scowls at her and tugs a little on the fabric of the pants like they’re making him uncomfortable or something. She realizes that somebody had to go buy him some stuff that would actually accommodate his cast, and while oversized sweats aren’t really his thing, at least he’s actually got _pants_ on for once. He has to be happy about that.

“Where are Mom and Dad?”

Connor doesn’t verbally answer her, but he swings his head to the left, so she assumes they must be in their room. She heads that way to tell them she’s home, but when she gets to the hallway, she realizes they’re in the guestroom instead. They’re muttering at each other, which is never good because that’s just the passive aggressive kind of fighting that usually ends in screaming matches. They both look exhausted, and she stands there for a second just watching as they attempt to pull what appears to be a very heavy mattress off of the bed. 

“What are you doing?”

They both seem surprised by her presence, and her mom smiles like she’s just _so happy_ to see her. It’s weird. “Hi, honey. How was school?”

“It was fine.” It wasn’t that fine- she’s pretty sure she failed a chemistry quiz, but whatever. “What are you doing?” she asks again.

“Switching the mattress out.” It’s her dad who answers, and he glances over at what appears to be a brand new mattress still in plastic wrap. “This one is too high.”

“Too high for what?”

“For Connor to manage with his leg. He needs something lower.”

That sounds weird to her. Connor’s six feet tall- he’s not exactly short. Still, she’s never really tried getting in and out of bed without literally being able to bend her leg or put weight on it or have to heave a massive cast after her. 

“So he’s moving in here?”

Her dad nods. “For now, yes. Until he can manage stairs and make it to his own room.”

Zoe looks around. She can’t picture Connor in here. This room is totally something her mom found on Pinterest while searching serene tranquility or some bullshit like that. It’s all light blues and purples. One of the multiple golden Buddhas that adorned their house last year is sitting on a table in the corner. The whole room kind of feels like the inside of a cloud or something. Definitely not Connor’s style.

“Zo, can you do me a favor and go make sure your brother doesn’t need anything?” Her mom looks like she’s literally about to crumble under the weight of the mattress that’s currently being pushed into her, and Zoe thinks it might be more beneficial for her to stay and help in whatever disaster’s about to occur with this bed thing than to go be Connor’s maid… But whatever.

She goes back to the living room, and Connor still doesn’t seem too pleased by her presence. Not that she’s surprised. She literally cannot remember a time when he was happy to see her. 

“Mom wants to know if you need anything.”

“Yeah. Tell her I need a phone so I can call my dealer.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Okay, so no water then?”

“Fuck off.”

Of course. She rolls her eyes again and decides the best thing for her is to just go upstairs. She doesn’t feel like being helpful, especially when he literally can’t even be cordial to her for two fucking seconds. She tries to pretend like her heart doesn’t speed up just a little as she climbs the stairs. She hates this. She hates feeling this nervous or uncomfortable or _whatever_ in her own house. She hates that all it takes to feel that way is seeing her brother downstairs in the living room.

She goes to her room and decides to do her homework, more as a distraction than anything else. She doesn’t want to sit there and let her brain start wandering, especially since she’s not sure she’ll like where it lands. Since she’s almost positive she failed that chemistry quiz, it might be to her benefit to actually do the reading. She’s already missed too much school, and they’re barely into the second week. Still, she thinks she can probably convince one of her parents to challenge the teacher if she really did fail the quiz because it’s not like it’s really fair to make her take a test when she missed nearly the entire first week. 

Her shoulder hurts. It’s still got a hideous bruise, and she feels it every time she moves. Part of her wants to go ask for a pain pill, but she doesn’t really want to talk to her parents right now. Plus, she thinks they’ll probably be even more on edge and wary about doling out medicine now that Connor’s home. Not that she doesn’t believe he’s in pain or whatever. It’s very obvious that he _is_ , but she knows all about the drama it’s already caused in the hospital. She heard her dad’s side of the telephone fight at 1 AM when her mom called to say she was overruling him on what Connor could have. And she heard him yelling at her mom that she was an enabler and that she was too gullible and didn’t know how to say no and a bunch of other crap. And Zoe just sat at the top of the stairs and eavesdropped like she used to do when she was little and her parents would start fighting in the middle of the night after they thought the kids were asleep. 

They’ve always fought over Connor. He’s always been at the center of their fights. She used to count how many arguments he would cause in a week. Sometimes they’d fight over her, too, but usually just as an afterthought. If she was involved in their arguments, it was usually just in relation to something he’d done to her or how something he was doing affected her. Her dad liked to throw her in sometimes, using her well-being as justification for whatever needed to be done to or about Connor on any given day. Occasionally, Connor would come out of his room and sit with her at the top of the stairs while their parents yelled at each other downstairs. He rarely reacted, no matter what was being said, even though most of it was about him. When they were little, Zoe would cry a lot, but he’d just sit there blank-faced, like he didn’t care at all that he was causing so much chaos. She remembers asking him one time why he had to be so bad all the time and make everybody so upset. He just sat there for a second, shrugged, and just said, _”I don’t know,”_ in this voice she wasn’t used to hearing from him. 

She doesn’t eavesdrop much anymore, and he never joins her when she does. Their parents stopped holding the arguments for after bedtime a long time ago.

She stays in her room until it’s time to come downstairs for dinner. She really expects her mom to have made some huge, elaborate welcome home meal, but she’s semi-pleasantly surprised to find takeout instead. Apparently her mom’s been a little preoccupied, so they’re having Thai, which isn’t Zoe’s favorite but is definitely better than what she expected. She helps without being asked, pouring drinks and getting plates out while her mom sets out the food. 

She kind of feels like the air’s been punched out of her when Connor enters the kitchen.

She hasn’t actually seen him get up since the accident, so she’s not really prepared for the sight of him on crutches, cringing with every single small step because apparently even the slightest movement is the absolute worst. She’s honestly surprised he’s up at all if it’s this much trouble. She sees her dad walking behind him, one hand forward, just barely resting on Connor’s back. Zoe’s sure that Connor would shrug it away if he was capable- the fact that he’s not worried her a little bit. She watches her mom drop what she’s doing and hurry over to help him the rest of the way to the table. Connor looks miserable, like maybe he might rather die than have to be pathetic enough to need his parents to help him _walk._ Zoe just stands there with the plates and doesn’t do anything until her dad’s pulled out a chair and Connor’s finally sitting back down.

Dinner is weird. There’s an obvious strained cordialness that both of her parents are pushing. They probably had some secret talk about trying to keep the peace or something, but it’s fucking weird, and all Zoe has to do is glance at Connor to see that he feels the exact same way. He’s just sitting there, barely eating and not really saying anything. He catches her looking at one point and kind of shakes his head expectantly, but she just rolls her eyes because whatever.

When the conversation goes from strained to ridiculous (her mom starts talking about the weather- literally), Zoe finally speaks up with something at least semi important. “I think I failed a test today.”

Everybody looks at her, but it’s her dad who says, “What test?”

“Well, quiz, I guess. Chemistry. I literally didn’t know a single answer.”

“They shouldn’t make you take a test when you just got back to school.” Her mom sounds kind of aghast, which is dumb because it’s not that serious, but whatever.

“Did you ask for an extension?” Her dad seems less aghast and more concerned about her overall grade. Zoe’s a little concerned, too, but she really just wants to talk about something normal and make her parents stop being so weird.

“Well, apparently, the whole _hey, I almost died in a car crash_ card only goes so far.”

“You didn’t almost die, Zoe. Don’t say that.” And her mom doesn’t look remotely amused. 

“I was just joking…”

“Well, don’t joke about things like that. It’s not funny.” 

Zoe just stares at her for a second and then silently slides her eyes across the table to Connor. He looks bored, but she sees him just barely lift a shoulder in response to her unasked question. 

Zoe shuts up after that, mostly because she doesn’t want to set her mom off. She wasn’t being serious, Jesus. And whatever, it’s not like it’s that much of an exaggeration. She probably _could_ have died. Connor definitely probably could have. 

Zoe hates the thought the second it enters her head. 

She hasn’t let herself go there. Not since the night of the accident. She hasn’t let herself sit there and really think about the fact that Connor could have died. That he could have died in _her_ car while she was driving. Granted, the accident wasn’t her fault, but that wouldn’t have changed anything. She was still ultimately in control of the car. If he died, she would have been to blame. She would have killed him. No matter what anyone else might say.

She doesn’t stick around after dinner to watch him hobble back to the sofa or off to his makeshift bedroom or wherever he goes. She doesn’t want to see him like that. Unable to do anything by himself, barely able to move. She doesn’t want to see it, and she doesn’t want to think about it.

So she just goes upstairs and ignores it.

… … …

The next morning, she makes it to the breakfast table to find her mom dressed for pilates. She’s surprised that she’s willing to leave Connor alone for even a little while, but she doesn’t question it. She just eats the cereal her mom puts out for her and doesn’t bother asking why her dad’s left already when he hasn’t gone to work early in a week. Connor’s obviously still in bed, so she and her mom just make small talk about school and band. And then it’s time for school.

Zoe goes upstairs to get her backpack. She starts to head back downstairs, but then she grabs something out of her jewelry box. Her mom’s going to take her to school and then head to her class. Zoe knows the routine is usually pilates and then brunch with some of the other ridiculous women who make a career out of activities and socializing. She’s not positive that she’ll do all that today, but she figures there are at least a couple of hours this morning where she’ll be out of the house.

Without thinking about her individual motives or the possible consequences, Zoe darts into Connor’s room and then back downstairs. Her mom’s cleaning up in the kitchen, so Zoe sneaks into the guest bedroom unnoticed. Connor’s in bed, but his eyes are open, and he kind of looks like he wants to kill her when she barges in uninvited.

“Shut up,” she says before he can even open his mouth. She drops a shoebox onto the bed beside him.

“What the fuck? Why are you in my room?” He looks at the familiar box and then back at her, but she just glares at him.

“You’re fucking welcome,” she snaps, throwing a small baggie of pot at him. She found it in the floorboard of her car the day after the accident when her dad took her to the wreckage lot to clean out her stuff. She assumes it must have fallen out of his jacket or bag or something during the wreck. She pocketed it before her dad could see, not really knowing why.

Connor picks it up and stares at it for a second before looking back up at her. “Are you serious?”

“Mom’s going to pilates. Don’t catch anything on fire because you totally can’t get out of here if the house burns down.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and she goes over and shoves the window halfway open.

“Zoe! Come on, you’re gonna be late!” 

She glances in the direction of her mom’s voice and then back at her brother. The lid’s off the shoebox, and he’s pulling a lighter out of it. He looks up at her. “Have fun at school.” 

It’s sarcastic. Obviously. She knows it means thank you.

“Fuck you.”

It means you’re welcome.


	6. Evan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of these characters.

The cafeteria has always felt like a warzone to Evan. He’s always thought that, even back in elementary school where everyone had assigned tables and sat with their class. He’s always hated it- the noise, the smells, the overall chaos… it’s just a lot. 

The high school cafeteria is even worse, though, and he just can’t deal with it on a lot of days, so he just hides in the bathroom or the library or something and tries to pretend like doing that doesn’t make him a giant loser. Even though he knows it does- _obviously_ \- make him a giant loser. He does try, though- he forces himself to go to the cafeteria on the days when his anxiety is on the 8ish level and not the full 10, but he usually just sits at a table and tries to go unnoticed because that’s the best option for him. He discovered that disappearing is the safest/best way for him to exist a long time ago, so he spends a huge portion of every day trying to do just that. Lunch is no exception.

Sometimes, like today, he’ll sit with Jared if he doesn’t feel like he’ll be bothering him too much. Which… that’s kind of dumb because it always kind of feels like he’s bothering Jared, no matter what he does, but some days are worse than others. And on the days that seem _less_ terrible, he’ll sometimes sit across from him and just hope that Jared doesn’t tell him to go away or to stop embarrassing him. Evan’s spent a ridiculous amount of his life worrying that he’s embarrassing Jared, so sometimes it’s easier to just avoid him altogether. For both their sakes. 

Jared’s always been pretty bossy and has never been really great at hiding his frustrations and annoyances, and Evan’s not stupid, so he’s always been pretty aware that a lot of what he does and who he is gets on Jared’s nerves. But Jared always still played with him or whatever, like when they were little. Their moms liked to hang out a lot and kind of forced them together, and it was just kind of always understood that they’d be friends by default. “Friends.” Evan doesn’t even know really, maybe never did, but when he was little, he’s pretty sure he thought of Jared as his friend. Only friend. Best friend. Whatever. They got along okay for the most part, probably because Evan just always did whatever Jared wanted to do and didn’t complain or tattle if Jared didn’t share or ordered him around. 

Even when they were really little, like five or six, Jared never really had any problem telling Evan when he was being too weird or too annoying or too whatever, and since Evan always felt like he had no other choice, he’d just apologize and then shut up or stop whatever he was doing and just try really hard to be as normal as possible. He doesn’t know if he really ever thought Jared was being _mean_ to him, even though he probably was, but Evan didn’t really think about the concept of mean when he was a kid- he was always just way too focused on trying not to bother people. And it seemed like he bothered Jared kind of a lot.

But then there were other times when Jared _wasn’t_ mean. Times when he’d share his toys and even sometimes let Evan go first on his PlayStation. It didn’t happen a ton, but it did happen some. Jared had a lot of stuff that Evan didn’t, a lot more toys and games and a whole backyard playground even though he was an only child and didn’t even really like playing on it that much. He had cool stuff like a laptop and an iPod, a PlayStation 3 _and_ an Xbox 360. Evan didn’t have any of that stuff. Like, he used to have an old Xbox, but his dad took it with him when he left, and his mom always just said stuff was too expensive whenever he’d ask for any of the cool stuff that Jared had. And like Evan understood that Jared’s parents clearly had a lot of money because they had a big house and drove nice cars and bought Jared way more stuff than he ever had time to play with, and he also knew that his parents _didn’t_ have a lot of money and that his mom had even less after his dad left. But it was still hard to understand why he couldn’t get the same things Jared had or why his mom always told him that everything was too expensive. It didn’t make sense to him, and he didn’t think it was really fair that Jared had all that stuff, especially when he got in trouble so much. 

Because he did get in trouble a lot, like a ton. 

Jared might have gotten whatever he wanted usually, but he also got his stuff taken away a lot because his parents were (still are) kind of strict. And like they never had any problems grounding him or taking away his stuff whenever he’d get in trouble for talking back or smarting off or not listening or being disruptive in school or whatever. They also never cared who was around. Like whenever Evan would get in trouble- which really, he didn’t get in trouble that much at all- but when he _did,_ his mom would always wait until they were at home or alone or whatever to handle it, which was good really because Evan always had a tendency to cry and freak out and go mild panic attack whenever he thought people were mad at him. But Jared’s parents never gave a crap who was around or where they were, and Evan’s seriously seen Jared get in trouble so many times, he can’t even count. But Jared never cried or got upset like Evan always did, and sometimes he’d even argue with his parents or snap back at them, which seriously never ended well for him… But if Evan was around, Jared would always find a way to blame him for whatever he was in trouble for, but he’d always at least wait until the adults were out of earshot before telling Evan exactly how it was his fault, even though Evan never really understood any of that logic, but he also never really argued with it.

But there were other moments when Jared didn’t seem so bothered with him, when he was nice and even sometimes _really_ nice, and even though they were rarer, Evan still kind of believes they were the most important. Like he remembers one time they were at McDonald’s, and their moms were talking/gossiping/whatever at a corner table while he and Jared ran around the PlayPlace. And Evan, of course, was really just following Jared wherever he went because it was a lot easier to just do that than to try to convince Jared to follow him. Everything was fine for awhile, but when they started down the tunnel slide, Evan just suddenly freaked out because everything was terrifying all of a sudden. And he didn’t want to be in that tiny small space but he didn’t want to follow the slide down to what his brain convinced him was total darkness and unknown, even though he totally knew exactly where the slide landed and knew that it wasn’t even that far down. But of course, his brain was always kind of against him and also didn’t have the decency to freak out _before_ he headed down the slide, so he just stopped himself halfway down, shoved his feet against the wall and started panicking because what else would he do? 

After a couple of minutes, Jared came climbing back up the slide from the bottom, obviously confused and probably annoyed, but when he said, _”Dude, come on,”_ Evan just shook his head and started crying a little bit. And then some kids at the top of the slide started coming partway down and started telling them to get out of the way and move and a bunch of other stuff that just made Evan even more upset because he couldn’t take people yelling at him and everything was too cramped and too crowded, and he was just going to seriously freak out at any moment. But then Jared literally climbed over him and scooted further to the top, and Evan could hear him yelling, _”Shut the hell up and leave us alone, or I will punch you in the face!”_ Which was ridiculous really because Jared was like… roughly the size of a Chicken McNugget and obviously wasn’t going to punch anyone. But it made Evan giggle, and Jared looked down at him and rolled his eyes and said, _”Just go already!”_ So he did. He let himself slide down the rest of the way, and he didn’t die. 

Jared got trouble (of course) because one of the other kids told their mom that he cussed at them and threatened to hit them. So that mom found out who Jared’s mom was, and it was a whole big thing. But Evan stumbled through an explanation of what happened, and Jared ended up just having to sit in time out for like ten minutes or something. And Evan sat with him because he was pretty sure, in that moment at least, that they were friends.

But Jared would do that sometimes, like get weirdly protective even though most of the time he was first in line to tell Evan how lame or weird he was. But sometimes he watched out for him, kind of took care of him or something. It always kind of felt like whiplash when he did, but Evan still usually appreciated it.

He had a full blown panic attack the first time his mom went out of town after his dad left. He really tried to be okay, and he even though he whined to his mom when she first told him she had to go, he tried to stop and just be fine because he knew she was worried. She tried to calm him down and bribe him with Jared because how fun would that be, right? He got to spend the _whole night_ with Jared, and that was going to be so much fun. And Jared’s mom was going to get them pizza and rent them a movie, and they were just going to have the best time- at least that’s what his mom told him while she threw some clothes and a toothbrush into his backpack and herded him out to the car.

But Evan knew from the second he got to the Kleinmans’ that Jared wasn’t up for all the fun that his mom promised. He kind of glared at Evan when he walked in the house, so Evan just stuck close to his mom, and she kind of absently played with his hair while she talked to Jared’s mom for a few minutes. And Evan gathered from their conversation that Jared had already been in trouble that day because apparently he couldn’t stop talking during silent reading at school even though the teacher told him to stop four times. So no wonder he wasn’t in a good mood. Evan tried really hard and didn’t cry when his mom kissed him and told him she’d see him tomorrow afternoon, but after she left, he didn’t know what to do because he was too scared to talk to Jared and just hoped he’d come over and talk to him first.

When it was obvious that Jared wasn’t going to come over and talk and that Evan wasn’t going to approach him, either, Jared’s mom finally just told them to go upstairs and play. And Evan followed Jared up this room but knew before it even happened that Jared was going to ignore him completely and just start some one player game while Evan just kind of stood around awkwardly because he was too anxious to even do something simple like sit down on a bed without express permission, which Jared definitely wasn’t going to give. 

The night wasn’t the best at all. They got pizza and watched a movie downstairs in the living room, but the whole thing was just awkward and uncomfortable. Jared wasn’t in a good mood and kept making smart-aleck remarks to his parents every time they tried to talk to him. Evan was positive he was about to get in big trouble, so he tried talking some, but he just ended up talking too much because he was always really, really bad at finding the right medium from being a mute and way overdoing it. But it was finally bedtime, and Evan was stuck alone in a room, in a bed beside Jared who immediately told him, _”I’m tired, don’t talk to me,”_ the second his mom turned off the light and closed the door.

And really, Evan didn’t even know what he did wrong. He wasn’t even really sure Jared was mad at _him,_ it just seemed like he was in a bad mood overall. And Evan didn’t want to make it worse and like be annoying or whatever, but he also didn’t want Jared to be mad at him because he was pretty sure he hadn’t actually _done_ anything. So he tried to apologize in case he actually had done something, but Jared immediately flipped over to face him and glared at him. _”Stop talking to me! God!”_

So Evan stopped. And Jared rolled back over and maybe went to sleep or maybe didn’t, Evan had no idea. He just knew it got quiet, and he was really, really afraid that Jared was going to hate him and never want to speak to him again. And he just really wished that he could go home, like that he could just call his mom and have her come pick him up because that’s all he wanted to do, just go home. But he couldn’t because his mom wasn’t even at home, she wasn’t even in town. And his dad couldn’t come pick him up because he was gone, too, all the way to Colorado with his new girlfriend who was kind of nice to Evan but also made him kind of uncomfortable because he was pretty sure his dad shouldn’t have a girlfriend, not yet, because he only moved out like a few months ago and his parents weren’t even divorced yet. And Evan wondered if his mom was going to get a new boyfriend and what that would be like, and he was pretty sure that anybody his mom might meet would probably hate him because he was weird and talked too much, and if his own dad didn’t like him enough to stick around, there was no way some new guy would. So his mom would just be alone and keep crying all the time, which she was already doing even though she tried to hide it and probably didn’t think Evan knew about, but he did know because he could hear her at night sometimes and also in the bathroom when he was supposed to be doing his homework. And he just really, really wanted to see his mom because she might be somewhere crying right then, and even though she wouldn’t want him to know, he could still hug her or something and try to make her feel better even though he knew that never worked. He couldn’t make her feel better because he didn’t know how, and even if he did know how, he really wasn’t good at anything, so why would he be good at that? He couldn’t do anything right, and she deserved somebody who could do stuff right, which just wasn’t him at all. And maybe she’d get a new boyfriend who could do stuff right and make her feel better, but he wouldn’t like her because she was stuck with a crappy kid who just made everything worse. And maybe eventually she’d get so tired of Evan that she’d just leave, too, just like his dad did because really, who would want to stick around when he was literally the worst at everything? Maybe she was already gone. Like maybe this was all a trick, and she just left him here because it was better than abandoning him at the mall or in a park or something because at least she knew that Jared’s mom would feed him and stuff. And maybe she was never coming back because why would she want to come back and be stuck with him when she could be off meeting boyfriends and moving away to Colorado or wherever just like his dad did?

He could feel his chest closing up, and he squeezed his eyes shut and tried really, really hard to make it stop before it got bad because he knew it was going to get bad. It always got bad. He hated this, and squeezing his eyes that tight just made them hurt and then start to water. And he knew that he was going to start crying, which was the _last_ thing he wanted to do because Jared would be super mad at him for being a baby and interrupting his sleep. And Evan hated all of this because it just made him feel like a freak but also kind of like he might die. But he knew he wasn’t going to die because his doctor told him that, the new doctor his mom started taking him to a few months ago. He told Evan that when he felt like this, it was just his body tricking him or something like that. But he wasn’t going to die- it might be uncomfortable, and it might feel like he was going to die, but he wasn’t. The doctor told him that over and over, almost every time he saw him, but Evan didn’t really believe him because his heart was going way too fast, and his throat was closing up. He was breathing too fast and too hard, and he started holding his breath even though Dr. Sherman told him _do not hold your breath_ because it just makes things worse. But he did anyway, and it didn’t help, and then he was just crying and breathing too hard and too fast. And he just wanted to go _home._

He tried to pretend like nothing was happening when he heard Jared sit up and ask him what was wrong. He just tried to push his face in the pillow and hide and maybe disappear or something, even though he was never able to disappear, no matter how hard he tried or wanted to sometimes. And he really just wished Jared would lay back down and go to sleep because this would be over soon, it always was. He just had to not die before then, and… 

_”Evan, stop! What’s wrong with you?!”_

And Jared sounded scared and confused, and of course he was because this wasn’t normal, and now he was definitely going to hate Evan forever because he could see for sure how much of a crazy freak he was. And he was probably going to go to school and tell everybody, too, and even though they weren’t in the same class, everybody would still find out. And then the whole school would know that he was crazy and a crybaby and just…

He wouldn’t open his eyes, but he could hear Jared get up and run out of the room. He didn’t blame him for running away, either, because who would want to see this or be around him ever, even if he wasn’t in total meltdown mode? He was just the worst, and nobody ever wanted to stay around him, not even his own dad and probably not his mom, either. 

He was crying so hard by the time he heard footsteps that he thought he might just choke to death on tears and snot, but it wouldn’t matter because he couldn’t breathe anyway. He was wheezing, and his lungs didn’t work, and he knew this wasn’t normal. _He_ wasn’t normal.

He felt somebody sit down beside him and then felt a hand on the back of his shoulder. He could hear Jared’s mom saying, _”Evan. You need to calm down, sweetie,”_ in this real gentle voice that kind of sounded like it was coming through his ears from down a long hallway or something. He knew he needed to calm down, but he also knew he couldn’t. So he just kept crying, and then he felt her hook her hands under his arms until she could lift him up to a sitting position, He wanted to fight, but he was too weak and just kind of limp, and she pulled him into her lap and just kind of petted his head and rocked him like he was a two year old or something. But that’s what his mom usually did, too, and even though it didn’t fix anything, he could feel her chest moving up and down against him, and he could focus on that and try to match it. He only opened his eyes for a second, but he could see Jared just standing in the doorway, almost in the hallway, probably wondering what kind of freak he really was.

Eventually, he calmed down. He started breathing more evenly, and his heart stopped feeling like it was going to pound out of his chest. He was still crying, but not like snotty sobbing anymore or anything. He just sat there with his head on her shoulder and tried to focus on the way her fingers felt as they played with his hair. He didn’t even notice that Jared’s dad was there, too, until he was offering him a glass of water and asking him if he wanted to call his mom. And Evan sat up a little and sipped on the water and nodded because he really did want to talk to his mom. He could tell when she answered the phone that somebody (Jared’s dad probably) had already filled her in, and she just talked to him like normal and asked him normal questions like if he liked the movie and how the pizza was. 

He was totally exhausted and tired and was already almost asleep by the time he laid back down and got tucked in again. He was barely conscious of Jared and his mom talking but could barely hear them anyway. Jared was asking if Evan was going to be okay, and his mom was telling him yes and that sometimes people’s minds made them think they were in danger or something and then Jared was quiet for a minute and then sounded maybe like _he_ was crying a little bit when he said he was sorry and didn’t mean for that to happen because he was just tired and didn’t want to talk but he didn’t know Evan would get upset like that. And his mom sounded really nice and still really gentle when she told him it wasn’t his fault at all. And then Evan didn’t hear anything else because he finally fell all the way asleep.

When he woke up, the sun was up, and the room was way brighter than Evan’s own room ever was in the morning. Jared was still asleep, flat on his back with his head lulled over and his mouth open. There was a little bit of drool sliding onto his arm, and he was sprawled out with his legs all over the place. But his hand was on top of Evan’s, and his fingers were kind of curled around it. And Evan didn’t know- and _still_ doesn’t know for positive- but he was pretty sure Jared fell asleep holding his hand. He didn’t know what that meant, but it made him feel pretty nice.

And Jared didn’t mention the night before when he finally woke up. He was nice to Evan all day, let him pick their games, didn’t whine when Evan said he wanted to play outside… And he didn’t tell everybody at school, either- never did, actually. Even when Jared wasn’t in a nice mood, he never went to school and told everyone how much of a freak Evan really was, not even when he witnessed more and more panic attacks as they got older. They saw each other less and less outside of school because their moms got busy, and Evan eventually got old enough to stay home by himself. Since they were never really friends _in_ school, Evan always harbored some mild panic that Jared would just get bored one day and start telling everyone everything he knew, like Evan wasn’t enough of a freak as it was. But Jared never did that, even though he sometimes laughed when other kids would mock or over-exaggerate Evan’s stutter or occasionally when some really evil teacher would try to force him to answer a question in class and he physically couldn’t make his mouth form words so he would just turn red and start sweating.

Evan never misconstrued their relationship at school- he always knew it what it was. Even when they were little and played together a lot outside of school, they were never friends in school. Jared didn’t want to be associated with him any more than he had to be. They didn’t sit together or play together at recess, even when Jared didn’t have anyone to play with, either. He could talk to Jared sometimes, but he had to be careful not to embarrass him. 

It’s the same way as they’ve gotten older. He constantly has to be aware of Jared’s mood at any given moment, always has to gauge the social situation happening around them and decide whether it’s safe to approach him. Sometimes it’s hard to read, and sometimes Jared doesn’t want to be bothered and will say something really mean to get him to shut up and go away. Evan doesn’t really ever take it personally- usually- because at least Jared talks to him _sometimes,_ which is more than anyone else really ever does. 

Jared doesn’t tell him to get lost when he sits down across from him in the cafeteria, but he doesn’t really seem thrilled to see him, either. He’s eating pizza and has a physics book open in front of him, which probably means he’s got a test or something later and doesn’t need to be bothered. But he still looks up when Evan sits down and silently offers him some fries. They don’t talk much or at all really, but that’s fine because Evan’s just trying to make it through lunch without being overwhelmed and Jared’s obviously just trying to not fail physics or something. 

But then Evan feels his phone vibrate, and he pulls it out of his pocket, totally expecting it to be his mom because she’s literally the only person who would be texting him. But it’s not his mom. It’s some unknown number and a text that just says _is this evan?_

Evan doesn’t know what to do, and he looks up at Jared who’s watching him and obviously interested now that he sees something entertaining might be happening. “Who is it?”

Evan shrugs because he doesn’t know. He just holds his phone out to Jared who takes it, reads the text, and then types something back. Evan panics because he doesn’t trust Jared like _at all_ and grabs his phone back to see _who tf is this?_ in response to the original message. He glares at Jared because seriously, this could be like an aunt or a doctor or something! He almost starts to type out an apology, but his phone buzzes and another message pops through before he can.

_answer the fucking question._

Okay, so it’s probably not a doctor or an aunt, unless he has some aunts he doesn’t know about or something… Jared grabs the phone back before he can stop him. When he gets it back, he sees a series of texts that he’s immediately horrified are sent from his number.

_wtf_

_u don’t fuckin text somebody and demand shit_

_who tf r u?_

Evan looks up in a panic, but Jared just seems amused now, totally abandoning his physics book and his lunch. Evan hurries to try to make things less insane. 

_I’m so sorry. I didn’t type that. Yes, this is Evan, I’m sorry. Who is this?_

He stares at his phone for like five straight minutes, and nothing happens. He’s mortified and worried because he has no idea Jared was just texting, and what if they’re some psycho killer or something, and now Evan’s just confirmed his identity? This was all a really bad idea, and he can’t believe he just admitted that it was him- that was so stupid.

But then after a prolonged silence, his phone buzzes, and he looks down quickly to see the text. It just says _connor_ and that’s it.

Evan feels his stomach drop, and he looks up in a whole different kind of panic. He hasn’t heard from Connor at all since that day at the hospital, but Zoe said he’s home from the hospital now. And why is he texting Evan, and how did he even get his number? 

“Who is it?” Jared demands, obviously enjoying all of this a little too much. Evan can’t really talk, so he just holds up his phone, and Jared snatches it immediately.

“Holy shit, dude! Why the hell does he have your number??”

“I-I don’t know?” Evan feels his face start to heat up, but he doesn’t know why. “Jared, no!” He leans across the table and grabs his phone back before Jared can finish the text he’s already started. He looks down and sees _suck my dick mur_ half-texted, and he immediately deletes it before he does something stupid like actually hit the send button or something. 

He has no idea what to do, so he just stares at his phone and kind of hopes Connor will say something else. He doesn’t. Jared looks way too excited for something that’s not that exciting, and Evan’s a little scared of what’s going on in his head to make him look that way. When it’s obvious that Connor’s not going to take one for the team and actually reply, Evan takes his time and carefully types out a message.

_Hi, Connor. Yes, this is Evan._

He sees the extent of his lameness the second he hits send, and his face heats up in delayed embarrassment. Jared abandons his seat and comes around the table to sit right next to him so that he can read over his shoulder. Evan tries to turn and hide his phone, but it’s pointless, and Jared’s immediately pulling at his arm to get a better view. He snorts out a laugh when he sees Evan’s latest text, and Evan would snap at him, but he’s honestly just too embarrassed by his own stupidity.

_who has ur phone?_

_Just Jared, but he doesn’t now._

“Dude! Don’t fucking tell him that!” Jared smacks his upper arm. “I’m not trying to be a co-victim in the murder plot being hatched against you!”

Evan just frowns because he still thinks this whole thing is crazy, but he’s pretty sure it’s not _actually_ a murder plot. He’s pretty sure anyway. Surely, it’s not. 

_kleinman?_

“No, tell him Jared Smith!” Jared tries to grab for the phone again, but Evan keeps it out of reach. 

“Who’s Jared Smith?”

Jared rolls his eyes. “I don’t fucking know! Do not put my name in this.”

Evan ignores him and texts back a simple _yes._

“Oh, my god. I hate you so fucking much.” Jared shakes his head in disgust, and Evan just chews his lips and watches his phone screen, waiting for Connor to text back. He waits. And waits. And waits. And he’s pretty sure that Connor’s not texting back. 

Evan tries really hard not to freak out over the implications of what Connor’s silence might mean, but whenever he tries really hard not to freak out over something, he usually just ends up freaking out even more. He wonders what he did to make Connor upset because obviously he did something. Like they were texting back and forth, and then Connor just stopped, so obviously he’s upset or something. Obviously Evan did something to _make_ him upset. Connor’s probably making copies of the letter right now to like hand out to everyone in school or something, or maybe he’s just going to scan it and put it online because really, making all those copies would be a major waste of paper. Not that he like thinks Connor really cares about the environment that much or whatever. He probably doesn’t. And what the hell does any of that have to do with anything?

His phone buzzes.

_fuck u_

Evan just stares at it, blinks, and then tries not to sweat to death because he’s suddenly _very_ warm. He doesn’t know what to do or how to take that, but really, how many different ways can you take that? Connor hates him. He’s going to ruin his life. Everyone’s going to know that he’s some crazy freak, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Fuck _him,”_ Jared says haughtily, and Evan kind of jumps because he forgot he was there for a second. And then, almost like Connor can hear them, the phone buzzes again.

_and fuck your little friend too_

_fuck u kleinman_

Jared’s eyes almost double when he reads the text, and he makes a lunge for the phone. Evan immediately shoves it into his pocket because he’s pretty sure (maybe?) that Jared won’t actually go into his pants after it. His hand is shaking a little, and he tries to take a deep breath because the last thing he needs is to have a meltdown right here in the cafeteria. Jared’s obviously pissed, too, which is dumb because he’s the one who caused this whole thing. Or maybe Evan did because he’s the one who handed him the phone the first time… 

This isn’t good. 

Like this is _definitely_ not good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this chapter was mostly just inner-thoughts, but I really feel like Evan and Jared need a solid basis for their current presence in each other's lives. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> So I finished one multi-chapter fic and started another... We'll see how this one goes.


End file.
